


Comedy Couple

by katnisspond, youdidnthearthisfromme (katnisspond)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eddie Kaspbrak Has ADHD, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak-centric, Everyone is Alive Except Georgie Denbrough, F/M, M/M, Richie Tozier Has Self-Esteem Issues, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier cries a lot, This is going to be long, actually scratch that they both have adhd AND self esteem issues, add remember, but they have their lives together already so, eddie swapping to apple strictly because his partner is annoying, first 10k just to establish the relationship, kind of angsty at first, other losers become side characters eventually, please do not judge by the first few chapters, plot heavy sex scenes, set in 2017 but time is relative, that also get very all over the place, that is okay, the rest is fluffy, theyre a mess is what im saying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24511444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katnisspond/pseuds/katnisspond, https://archiveofourown.org/users/katnisspond/pseuds/youdidnthearthisfromme
Summary: How Eddie Kaspbrack and Richie Tozier set the comedy scene on fire (literally!)
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61





	1. Kill Your Heroes

**Author's Note:**

> This is my goddamn BABY! I've been working on this since before the pandemic, before global chaos, BEFORE 2020! It's not done but I'm far enough ahead that I have faith in my ability to finish this gigantic piece. I'm currently at 40K so let's get the ball rolling!

New York was a cold, cold place this time of year. Snow settled on panes of glass, blown by the wind into the swarm of faces that characterized such a populated city. No one met each other’s eyes along these streets. No one cared to look. 

He supposed that the frost was what drove the ache in his chest. Eddie knew otherwise but he wouldn’t accept that answer. Leaving had been hard enough. Admitting that he wanted to go back to the toxic environment he and his ex-wife had cultivated all those years? No. Blame the ache on the cold. Blame it on the nostalgia or the scars. Anything to make this situation feel slightly less bitter. 

This wasn’t the first time it had hurt to walk back to his new apartment. His previous house wasn’t much better but the clown induced fog prevented him from ever _really_ looking around. The streets were dirty. People brushed up against him the whole time. Since day one it had made his skin crawl. He didn’t mind how generally unsociable everyone is - hell, that’s what made him fit in so well that even at out of state meetings, he’d constantly get the, “You’re from the New York branch, aren’t you?” Eddie would nod almost pridefully, ignoring the fact that whoever was asking basically thought he was an asshole. It was a nice sense of belonging. 

Nowadays, he felt out of place. The trip back to Derry changed everything, right down to the way his back would twinge if he caught a sharp wind gust. He wasn’t as equipped to constantly bat away any concern from his coworkers when he had a cane and may actually need their help. He couldn’t take the long 8 hour work day without checking his ever-buzzing phone at least once or twice. The subway felt more claustrophobic than gross and the street more gross than claustrophobic. Eddie Kaspbrack stopped feeling like a New Yorker at all. 

Maybe it was the clown magic being lifted or his divorce that snapped it. Or, as Richie would say, the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes too big for his rib cage that had already taken a such beating in the past year. Eddie couldn’t tell. All he knew, that frosty December day, was that he wanted to be elsewhere. He just couldn’t tell where. 

And as odd as it sounds, that right thought is the spark that lit the flame that set the comedy scene on fire.


	2. Renegades

“Eddie, you are _joking_ ,” Beverly replied with wide eyes. Eddie shook his head and knocked back the last of his second beer. He was a little buzzed at the moment, but as he’d regaled, it was nothing in comparison to the nights he’d braved through college. 

“That’s what happens when you have a sheltered childhood. College gets wild,” Eddie kicking his feet out and crossing them. “I think I almost died of alcohol poisoning twice.” 

The Losers Club was out relaxing on what was admittedly the coolest deck any of them had ever seen, courtesy of Ben’s fantastic design skills. Beverly and Mike were floating in the heated pool that reflected the dewy trees all around them while a light drizzle tapped against the faux black wood jutting out from the Hanscom residence into the treeline. Even the grey sky couldn’t put a dampener on the ‘party’ thanks to strings upon strings of fancy Michael’s brand light strands that swept across the safety bars. Three glass tables scattered artfully in the corner with the best view were adorned with enormous umbrellas that were so sturdy, if there was a hurricane, the damn things would hold stronger than the rest of the house. Eddie and Richie sat at one with a case of beers in the center while Stan and Patty chose to shelter from the drizzle under their own table with wine glasses in hand. Ben was working with Bill grilling but would often swerve by the Uris table for a wine refill.

“Samesies!” Richie said. “You know it’s bad when I’m the one who can relate to your college experience, man.” Eddie gave a humorless snort and glanced at him. Richie’s hair was a frizzy mess thanks to the humidity from the rain but all things considered, it might have been an improvement. 

“Wait a second,” Mike said. “Stan went to college nearby, right?” Patty smiled softly as Stan nodded. 

“NYU.” he replied. “I think Eddie was in my class at one point because I vaguely remember a pissant getting kicked out. He’d started an argument with the professor over dish soap.” Eddie leaned around Richie to gape at Stan. 

“Oh my fucking god. You are kidding me.” Stan smirked and shook his head. 

“Nope. You lost it when she said she hated Dawn. I thought I’d only remembered thanks to the stupidity of the ordeal.” Eddie let out an odd wheezy sound and sat back, reaching for another beer. 

“Why is it that every time I- Ever since we were kids, you are always around! It’s like you have a little radar that when I go batshit, it pings and you go find me!” Beverly snorted and pushed off of the pool wall to join Mike in wading. 

“Well, Mr. Kaspbrack,” Richie began with an impression of their 9th grade Math teacher. “When you go feral more than three times a week, it’s kind of hard to not be in the vicinity. In fact, I’d get that checked out if I were you.” Eddie scowled and slapped at Richie’s shoulder, getting a satisfying ‘ouch’ for his efforts. They’d long since established through many video chats over the past year that Eddie had no right to deny being at least slightly feral. The day his personal defense against the term finally relented, Richie had punched the air over their FaceTime then vague tweeted him. 

“I meant more feral than usual, dipshit. Like the paddle ball incident? And the marina? I should’ve been on Zoloft as a kid instead of fucking narcotics and Stan always took the brunt of it,” Eddie lamented as if he was any better behaved as an adult. 

“Marina incident?” Patty asked. She garnered laughter from every edge of the patio save for Eddie who was merely mouthing ‘I’m so sorry’ towards Stan. Stan tiredly reached across the table and squeezed Patty’s hand. 

“Another time, dear. Some memories don’t need to be re-lived on a nice night like this.” 

After a year of picking up the pieces, having the Losers back together again was a feat within itself. None of their schedules had coincided. For the past year, it had been 3 of them together at most, often only in the case of Ben and Beverly’s visits as they were a couple finally. Even that took a long, drawn out divorce to accomplish. Richie had finished out his tour on a relatively high note according to the reviews, but he sheepishly denied letting the others see his final show on the tour. Richie disliked the material pretty thoroughly so Eddie allowed it without too much complaint. 

Meanwhile, Mike already had his home in Florida fully furnished thanks to Bill and Ben forcibly taking over any property payments. It was a quick thanks for the 27 year wait he’d taken for the team. Bill was mid-divorce from Audra Phillips but after the closure he’d found in Derry, he had high hopes for finding another, less strained relationship in the future. Stan’s life had barely changed at all Post-Derry thanks to having established a stable marriage, job, and high quality of life, clown magic be damned. 

Eddie’s life, on the other hand, was the exact opposite of Stan’s, and the few parts he had fixed by then were few and far between. Do you know what a job like risk analysis does to a guy with anxiety? Do you know how hard it is to get a divorce when you’re on pain meds for the clown impalement you’d gotten last month? Somehow those were the least of his problems! The others had all gotten their lives together for the most part, but Eddie felt like an absolute mess. More often than not, he’d taken a back seat in the group chat whenever someone asked how the others were doing just so he didn’t unload how much of his situation still generally sucked.

Long story short, Eddie Kaspbrack felt like his life was still stalled. Nothing was moving forward besides his mental health (sometimes) and that was disheartening as hell. He also felt strangely alone in this thanks to his silence towards his friends, something his therapist would very much disapprove of. On Ben’s porch in June, however, he realized that he was not alone in starting the upheaval of his life so far past the end of IT’s reign in Derry. 

“I’m gay.” Everyone practically froze to look at Richie. It was an odd place to interject with something that important but it was Richie Tozier. The timing was obviously purposeful. Richie gave a nervous cough and drank his beer, sitting back with a faked relaxed posture. “Yeah. Thought you guys should know or whatever-” Eddie felt his heart in his throat but considering that was his default setting most days, it wasn’t hard to throw on a grin and elbow Richie anyway. 

“Thank you for telling us. No clue what that has to do with the marina incident but it’s a nice sentiment?” Richie gave a startled snort and covered his face with his hand as the others caught on. Eddie let himself feel a bit of pride for having responded quickly enough to stall any real panic from his best friend.

“Wait… what about that shitty masterbator’s anonymous bit with the girlfriend?” Mike asked dumbly. 

“I don’t write my own shit, man. How should I know who this Ashley chick is?” Richie replied with a tense shrug. Stan punched his leg, not to be deterred by his proud grin. 

“Huh,” Bill said with a nod. “Cool then, I guess?” He nonchalantly went back to rolling hotdogs. 

“Thanks, Billiam. Only revealing my deepest, darkest childhood fears over here.” He rolled his eyes. Ben wandered over and pat Richie on the back before returning to the grill with the absolute _widest_ smile. Even Richie couldn’t argue with that one. Finally, Beverly stopped buffering. 

“Oh my- Richie! You- That’s amazing!” she cried. Richie chuckled at his friends’ antics. Only Eddie had responded remotely in the realm of how people generally should and considering the weight of his opinion in the matter, Richie seemed content with that much.

“Wow? Really! Neat!” he replied mockingly. Beverly shook her head and raised a middle finger, the joy on her face unabated by Richie’s snark. 

“So all your past standup about women was… None of that was real?” Mike asked again. 

“It- Dude. I’m gay. The fact that anyone believed a woman would touch any of this-” Richie motioned to his entire body but froze discernibly on his hairline. “-is genuinely absurd.” 

“Liar,” Eddie said with a scoff. “Whether or not you’d let them? Different story. Don’t sell yourself short though.” Were his ears pink? Yes. Did he regret saying that out loud? Kind of. But he meant it. 

“I’m with Eddie on that one,” Bill said. Eddie internally thanked him. “Big shot comedian with the kind of sets you had up there? You could’ve landed a girlfriend if you wanted one. Or a boyfriend.” 

“Ooo, does this mean operation ‘find Richard a boyfriend’ has commenced?” Beverly said, wiggling her eyebrows. Richie gave a nervous laugh and shook his head. 

“Nope. No way. No, I am- I can’t even legally come out for another tour.” 

“Wait what?” Eddie interjected with a little too much offense. Richie raised his hands. 

“Calm down, Eduardo. No need to get your hackles up. I signed on with a bit of a jackass who- Let’s just say I’m waiting until I’m done working with that a-hole to attempt anything. He’s publicly cut ties with people for less.” 

“Aw, Rich…” Bev said with a frown. Eddie was white knuckling his poor beer bottle as he mulled over the implications. 

“What’s the fall out if you cut ties with him and don’t do another tour?” Stan asked with a worried knot in his eyebrows. Richie sighed and shrugged. 

“Burkowitz- No, not the serial killer kind, my investor for the big shit like touring - He uh… He takes people down if they don’t cooperate. Now, I’m not one to kowtow to some Hollywood bigshot’s homophobic bullshit but I also don’t want to rebuild my career off of a wrap worse then ‘lost his lunch onstage’. Plus Jack would have the ability to sue for more money than even Ben could whip out in a year so I figure I’ll do a quick fluff piece and call it good. I’m saving the real good shit my own stunt.” Stan gave a somber nod and reached out to hold Patty’s hand properly. Eddie set down his beer bottle a little harshly, causing a loud bonk. 

“That’s- No one should have the right to fucking- You’d think growing up in Derry was enough of a kick in the balls!” he exclaimed. Richie hid a smile under his beer at Eddie’s riled response. 

“I appreciate the allyship Edsteban, but I’m pretty sure the multi-media conglomerate backing him isn’t afraid of a 5’9 40 year old with anger issues.” Eddie shot him a glare. 

“Maybe not but call me ‘Edsteban’ again and you damn well should be.” 

“That’s a hate crime, Edsmerelda. You’d be officially committing a hate crime.” 

“As if I’d let that stop me. Wait, hold on- Did you get hate crimed by the fucking alien clown?” Richie laughed and sat up, no longer feigning comfort as he wasn’t uncomfortable. As their side-conversation commenced, the rest of their company dissolved into their own various discussions. 

“I- Technically? Actually, scratch that, yeah, I did.” Eddie’s eyebrows elicited such rage that Richie almost regretted not telling the gremlin sooner. 

“That _motherfucker_. Wait, fuck. When Bowers wrote shit on your locker, he- God, man. That’s rough.” Richie turned towards Eddie and rolled his beer around on the glass table, near lost in thought. 

“Yeah but… I don’t know. I had you guys. Plus, didn’t he pull that on you too? Calling someone a fag back then was more of a crowd insult than a direct hit for the most part,” Richie said. Eddie realized that his own foot had been tapping and stopped it. 

“I…Guess? Still, it didn’t bug me as much. I don’t think I was as self aware back then. I didn’t- With all my mom’s shit? I think I checked out.” Richie tilted his head up at Eddie with an eyebrow raised. 

“I think it’s kind of hard to have your dick check out with you there, bud,” Richie said. It was a joke, yes, but it was also a veiled defense that said Richie _clearly_ had not done the same. Eddie chuckled. Internally he debated coming out too. 

“Yeah, no, you got me there. I just ignored it though so no harm no foul on it’s part, right?” Eddie’s weak, somewhat unintelligible attempt at humor still got Richie to laugh. The comedian sat up again, stretching out. Eddie ducked to avoid the purposeful hand in his face. 

“Once again, _hard_ to ignore one’s dick but I appreciate whatever hellacious mental health issue _that_ is. Come on, Bev and Mike look way too peaceful in that pool. We need to rain down some chaos before they feel too safe in there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be separated by days for reference.


	3. Young Americans

The next morning, Losers trickled out of bed one by one like zombies. The Losers Club should not stay up until 2 AM drinking. Lesson learned. It would obviously be ignored in the future but it was learned nonetheless. 

First to see sunshine were Stan and Patty. The two were miraculously far closer than any of the Losers could aspire to be. As the others wandered in, they were greeted by the Uris couple sipping coffee and reading in a nice, well lit nook in the kitchen.

Ben’s entire house was built with small details like that. It was a large, glass encased two story that looked out over what was practically a mini forest, dissipating into the ocean at the far reaches of the skyline. Throughout the home were little details no one else would have thought to add, such as a coffee table that was oddly useful in a hall, or lighting that warmed the color of a room regardless of the time of day. Eddie remembered first arriving, looking around, and being overwhelmed with memories of the clubhouse. Mike nearly cried. It had been a good day. 

Eddie sidled up to the kitchen with what he could physically feel were massive eye bags. Not that his usual ones were ever small. Anxiety’s a bitch like that and Eddie hated sleeping meds with a passion after everything he’d worked through Post-Derry. He settled on elbowing past Mike for the coffee machine with a grunt. Mike laughed, with his hands up. 

“Damn, Eddie! You’re making Richie look like he’s in good shape,” he mused. Eddie flipped him the bird but felt a small ping of curiosity as to how his other friend was fairing. God knows Richie went all in on the shots around one. As though he were psychic, Mike calmly poured another cup of coffee, dumped some sugar in it like Richie preferred, then handed it to Eddie with a soft smile. “I think you’re probably our best bet for dragging him out of bed before noon. I already made an attempt but something tells me that you and coffee might do the trick.” Eddie’s expression remained an exhausted neutral but he gave a nod, knocking back his own lukewarm cup scarily fast in order to focus on the task at hand. He passed a yawning Bill as he entered the hall.

That was another thing about the Hanscom household. It was built so that the others had their own rather large room - long before Ben had remembered the Losers Club. Each contained a small feature uniquely built in to make their individual spaces personal, such as Richie’s soundproof door or Stan’s entire wall being a window to look out into the trees. The only one lacking their own room was Beverly, a fact that amused Richie to no end. 

Speaking of whom, Eddie didn’t bother knocking. Richie was a heavy sleeper on a good night, but more frequently, practically a corpse. Knocking wouldn’t do shit. Instead, he heartily barged in on the scene where one Richard Tozier had sprawled out like a cat in a ray of sunshine. Even then, he was tangled in sheets from head to toe. Eddie felt a fond smile tug at his otherwise grumpy face but shunned it, placing the coffee mug on the bedside table.

Now, in this moment, Eddie could’ve gently shook Richie’s shoulders. He could’ve softly greeted Richie with the cup of coffee in hand. He could’ve kindly helped untangle Richie from the fabric deathtrap the man had rolled himself into. 

Eddie haphazardly shoved Richie onto the floor. That, he knew, would wake the fucker up for sure. 

“Rise and shine, douchebag. Coffee’s on the table,” Eddie called on his way out of the room. The disgruntled, ‘Eddie, you dipshit,’ he caught on the way out merely made him grin. 

Thankfully, the second day of the Loser’s Club reunion was already planned to be a recovery from whatever antics they’d gotten up to the night before. Breakfast wasn’t necessarily a somber affair, so much as a comfortably quiet one. Ben had made some pretty killer French toast, earning praise from around the table. Eddie didn’t join in but he also didn’t pick a fight over the health detriments of eating sugar coated bread, so Ben heard the gratitude loud and clear. It was only once dishes had been cleaned that anyone departed the space for other activities. Beverly and Ben decided to go for a stroll along the slightly foggy path outside while the Urises were happy to read their books for the bulk of midday. As both couples left, Mike and Bill decided that fishing at the nearby dock could be fun, an activity both Eddie and Richie found to be boring as watching paint dry. 

“No way am I joining you two _old men_ to stare at water for three hours,” Richie replied with his nose scrunched judgmentally. He was hunched over his mug nursing a headache from hell. “A buddy of mine stuck me on a yacht once and tried to make me fish with him. We are no longer friends.” Bill shook his head with a smirk. 

“Honestly, Richie, I’m kinda glad to hear that. You plus a sharp object on a string with no other entertainment?” Mike laughed and pat Richie on the back. 

“Yeah, Bill’s got a point there. Eddie, you up?” 

“That’s what she said,” Richie mumbled halfheartedly. Eddie elbowed him with nearly the same lack of conviction. 

“Coworker made me go a few years back. I caught a fucking turtle. Do you know how hard it is to retrieve a hook without hurting a fucking turtle?” 

“They have those in New York?” Richie asked with an eyebrow raised. Bill and Mike shared an amused look as the other two launched into bickering. 

“No, dumbass. I was working a special case down in Florida. How the fuck should I know if there are turtles in New York City?” 

“You’ve been to Florida? And what the fuck is a special case for a risk anylist? Can’t you just analyze risk from your computer?” 

“Not when- I had to survey the property. You couldn’t do that through FaceTime until 2010.” 

“Oh my god. Now all I can imagine is you doing that old person thing with your face all close to the camera-” 

“I don’t do that! We’ve literally FaceTimed each other before, asshole!” 

“-Just yelling like ‘a little to the left so I can see that specific rock!’” 

“That’s not how it works and you know it! You always act like my serious fucking job is somehow less than your shitty career talking at a bunch of strangers for and hour and a half-”

“It’s at least more interesting than fishing or risk analysis.”

“And? Your entire job is making people like you! I get to be a dick and nobody complains because I’m fucking good at my job!” 

“Being a dick is literally my profession, Eds. It’s my _name_.” Mike cleared his throat across the table with a cheeky grin, regaining Richie and Eddie’s attention. 

“Mike and I are heading out then,” Bill said. “Join us if you would like, _or_ feel free to bicker with one another _here_ for the next few hours.” Eddie gave an exaggerated groan as Richie grinned wolfishly. Ironically, Eddie was (only slightly) more pleased by the concept than his cohort thanks to the hangover picking at Richie’s brain matter. 

“Abandoning us to go elope already, guys?” Richie teased. “I thought you could make it the whole week. How naive of me.” Bill snorted as he and Mike made for the door, leaving Eddie and Richie to stew at the table. The complete lack of company within their proximity made Eddie’s heart rate spike. He was waiting for Richie to fill the space with shitty jokes or a haphazard impression but instead found the man staring pensively into his mug. 

“What’s up your ass?” Eddie asked with annoyance lining his tone. He stood and reached for the coffee pot, refilling his own mug before offering Richie a top off. Richie shook his head and looked back down before replying. 

“Your mom.” Eddie stuck his tongue out. 

“Weak. You had better options.”

“Fair. It’s just… God. Last night I pounded shots like a teenager because I couldn’t get my anxiety under control. This morning Mikey tried waking me up all nicely and I almost didn’t want to leave my room for the same reason. Then you kicking me out like a _fucking asshole_ -” Eddie gave a dramatic bow. “-reminded me that it didn’t matter, so… thanks for that I guess?” It was a pretty raw admission from someone who leaned so heavily on deflection. Eddie sat back down next to him and nudged his side. 

“Technically nothing changed, besides saying it out loud. I um… I wish I was brave enough to do the same.” Richie’s head whipped up, eyebrows almost reaching the midpoint of his forehead - and that said a lot considering its height. Eddie took a deep breath to calm the adrenaline spike. Had he technically said he was gay? No. It still damn well counted though.

“Wait. Like come out? Last night you said-” Richie began.

“Ugh, yes. That was what I meant. I- Everyone was around and-” Eddie frowned and looked at his coffee. Richie had a point with the whole coffee staring thing. It was actually kind of grounding.

In his peripheral vision, Eddie saw Richie do the same. He thought about how hilarious that had to look. Two repressed 40 year old men staring at their coffees at one in the afternoon. Everyone else had split off into couples activities (maybe save for Bill and Mike but, you know, still off doing something) and their chosen undertaking was caffeinated bean juice analysis. 

“I- Thanks for- telling me?” Richie slightly choked out. Eddie raised his mug for a toast, Richie curiously following suit. 

“Here’s to getting hatecrimed by a dipshit murder clown.” Richie’s surprised laugh was worth the dumb gesture. 

“Here, here!” 

*******

They were passed out on the sofa. Or, more accurately, Richie had bitched enough about his headache when they were playing Uno that Eddie forcibly dragged him to the sofa and sat on him until he finally relented, then promptly fell asleep waiting for Richie to fall asleep. Patty was nice enough to take a picture in passing. 

Eddie woke up to the sound of Beverly snickering with a crick in his neck from having his head loll to the side. He didn’t dare move as his entire weight was on Richie’s torso. While that obviously couldn’t be good for his back, Eddie still wasn’t going to wake him after the literal fight they’d had to get him there. 

“Wake him and you die, Marsh,” Eddie grumbled, pulling out his phone. Beverly gave a wink and a salute on her way out of the living room. 

Things had chilled out after the admittedly awkward way Eddie had come out earlier. Well, come out-ish. And he still had the other Losers to go. Christ, this whole living your truth shit was hard. 

He had yet to tell Richie that he’d had a crush on him since the 90s. _That’ll be fun_.

Otherwise, he was pretty content to sit there on Richie and scroll through Twitter. He liked surfing the tags for his fellow Losers. Bill’s always had insane theorists and generally odd fans (Eddie understood the 30 year olds’ thirst posts but anyone younger than that had some kind of emo aesthetic or an obvious daddy kink that didn’t make Bill’s twitter tag particularly enjoyable to scroll through.) Ben’s tag was either wholesomely commenting on Ben’s designs and charming personality or whining about wanting to rail him into a sofa. Eddie never dipped into Bev’s because his stomach would always twist reading them. The constant commentary on her looks was sometimes interrupted by a half assed opinion on how she should’ve handled her divorce, or, better yet, questioning if her marriage had actually been abusive in the first place. All of those posts were either vapid or invasive in a way that needled at Eddie’s own insecurities as well. 

Richie’s tag was Eddie’s personal favorite though, mainly for the absolutely epic roasts of his dear friend, the Trashmouth. Hairline? Body type? Sense of humor? Under attack 24/7. Eddie didn’t like reading those tweets, but rather going after them in a way that truly unleashed his full range of killer insults that were too pointed to direct at his friends. He was widely known for being particularly savage to antis under his anonymous account. Absolute destruction with every comment. 

Once he’d had a comeback so fantastic that John Mulaney retweeted it. Eat shit Tozier haters. 

After his second roast of a particularly ruthless incel on Bill’s Twitter page, Richie shifted with a groan from the weight on his chest. Eddie sighed and stood up, flopping down on the other end of the couch so their feet could tangle in the middle. Richie peeked an eye open at Eddie, a man who promptly buried his face in his phone. Richie chuckled and stretched out. Eddie slapped his foot away as the invasion began. 

“Menace,” Eddie grumbled without any real fervor. Richie rolled his open eye and turned to face the back of the sofa and pass out again. Eddie still didn’t leave his side. 

*******

Dinner was courtesy of Mike Hanlon and a great way to round up all the strays from their various activities. 

“Did you test the water at all before cooking these?” Eddie said wearily. “Who knows what could’ve been in the water, man. Then in the fish.” Mike looked up from the sizzling pan of fish with a soft smile. 

“The level of arsenic recorded in their last water quality check was 2 milligrams at most.” Eddie felt and probably looked like he could cry hearing that his friends had actually checked.

“Cool. Nice. Thanks then.” Mike laughed and elbowed him. 

“No problem, Eddie. We all know you’re looking out for us.” Leave it to Mike to really hit Eddie in the heart strings. Bev wandered in with a bag of Doritos.

“Has Richie risen from the dead yet or should we start writing out the eulogy?” she asked. Eddie snorted and leaned against the counter. 

“I think we could probably convince him to join the land of the living if I dangle some of those in front of him,” Eddie replied with a nod to the bag. “Since when did everyone assign me as the expert on the dumbass’ sleeping patterns?” 

“At birth,” Stan replied from across the room. Everyone jumped. They hadn’t seen him sitting in the corner with his phone out. 

“Wha- Did you just fucking teleport?!” Eddie cried. Stan gave no response. Eddie shivered in an attempt to shake off the adrenaline spike. “Alright, I’m abandoning you for the table. Stan is lurking.” Bev giggled. 

Eddie made his way around the corner to the dining room. It was suitably gigantic, with two extra spaces for a hypothetical Audra and someone else’s additional guest. He placed his glass on a seat at the center, Beverly likely to his left. In wandered Bill, clothes changed from his previously dirty get up thanks to having gotten his fishing pole stuck in some mud. Eddie guessed Ben must have been taking a shower after he and Beverly had gone running according to his absence.

“Hey, Eds. Seen anyone else around?” Bill asked. Eddie shrugged. 

“Mike’s cooking and I think Bev might’ve stuck around to help? Stan’s creepily watching from the table.” Eddie added, “Richie may or may not be a lump on the sofa still.” Bill chuckled and shook his head. 

“Sounds about right. I think Patty was trying to wake him. I’d intervene if I were you.” 

“What is it with everybody making me wake him up?! I’m not his keeper!” Eddie yelled. He clearly wasn’t serious about this grievance though as he pushed past an amused Bill into the hall. 

“Make sure to teach Patty your ways!” Bill called after him. Eddie lifted his middle finger. Sure enough, Bill was correct. Patty was softly jostling Richie’s shoulders, albeit a little frantically. 

“Come on, Richie, we- Oh thank fuck. Hi, Eddie.” Eddie couldn’t help but smile at the foul language being said by such a sweet woman. She was Stan’s perfect match. 

“Richie playing dead again?” Patty’s shoulders released built up tension as she moved away, relieved to hear this wasn’t the first time. 

“I genuinely thought he was in a coma. I tried everything.” Eddie shook his head and leaned over the couch to get a good look at his companion. She’d shifted him to lay on his back but he was still facing the back of the sofa. 

“Don’t worry about it, Mrs. Uris. He’s about to wake up alright,” Eddie replied forebodingly. Patty grinned, gesturing to Richie. 

“He’s all yours.” Eddie stepped away until he reached the limits of the room, then gunned it forward. He’d done track in college, including hurdles, giving him the extra air time when he launched up. He landed dead center on target, Richie sputtering awake as Eddie bounced back onto his feet. Patty laughed and gave Eddie a high five as Richie rolled onto the floor with a ‘Thunk!’, clutching his stomach. 

“Tw-ice in a fucking day…” Richie grit out into the carpet. Eddie squatted down to pat Richie on the shoulder. 

“If you’d wake up like a normal human, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he said smugly. Richie gave a frustrated swipe at Eddie’s ankles from his curled position but it landed like a sad, semi-karate chop on the nearby coffee table. He hissed in pain and withdrew it back into the ball he’d formed. “Don’t hurt yourself even more, moron!” Richie raised him the bird.   
“You two,” Patty said under her breath, shaking her head. “Come on. I’m sure dinner’s just about done by now.” 

“Sure, mom,” Richie replied snarkily. Eddie schwacked him on the back of his head. “Ow! Don’t hit a man while he’s down, you pissant!”

“I’m not- Why is everyone calling me a pissant too? This reunion is setting some precedents that I am not enjoying,” Eddie grumbled, reaching out a hand. Richie took it and Eddie lugged them back to their feet. 

“What, abusing your friends and getting called out for being an anal retentive midget?” Richie very narrowly avoided the heavy handed swing for his chest. “Hey! I speak only facts!” 

“I’m an average height you jackass! Bill is shorter than me! Not to mention, no one uses that fucking word anymore! Jesus christ!” Richie cackled. Eddie shoved him into the hall. Patty followed with a soft grin. 

Eddie regretted sticking Richie in front of himself. In the hall, Richie had mischievously slowed to a crawling pace and used his wide shoulders/height advantage to stop Eddie from pushing past. They wound up basically wrestling, Patty patiently leaning against the wall and smiling on to be absolutely zero help whatsoever.

“You’re doing this on purpose you fucking brick wall.” 

“You know, that’s actually quite the compliment- Ow! You little shit! That’s not fair!” 

“Oh yeah! Fuck you, buddy! I’m getting through this fucking- Ah!” 

“Exactly, shit head! It- Did you just fucking bite me?!”

“Move, dick-for-brains!” At all the commotion, Stan peaked his head into the hallway and locked eyes with Patty. She shrugged and giggled, nodding to the two idiots still fighting who were completely oblivious to the exchange. Stan rolled his eyes. 

“Hey, dipshit 1 and 2, let my wife through the fucking hallway,” Stan said with his special brand of exasperation. Eddie paused with his hand over Richie’s face just in time for Richie to lick it. Eddie’s expression soured even further. He didn’t remove his hand, instead turning to shoot the most vicious glare he’d ever given in his entire life and shove Richie against the wall so Patty could pass unharmed. 

“Thank you, dear,” Patty said primly, patting Eddie’s shoulder before joining Stan in the kitchen. Eddie’s glare didn’t budge though and Richie looked slightly terrified. 

“Don’t kill me,” Richie muttered weakly, muffled under Eddie’s hand. Sure, it was said jokingly, but those wide blue eyes struck a chord when Richie had said that. Any anger dissipated as Eddie’s face flushed. He literally had Richie pinned to the wall. _Fucking hell._ Without warning, Eddie pulled away and ducked into the kitchen. It was better than trying to fake an insult and failing miserably. 

*******

The biggest downside to leaving the windows of the household open was the temperature when the sun went down. 

“We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Edward Kaspbrack’s dignity,” Richie announced in a voice, snapping a picture. Eddie’s face was on fire, despite the rest of him, but he refused to acknowledge Richie’s generally correct statement. 

“Oh, shush, Richie. It’s cold in here,” Bev replied with a grin threatening to breach her otherwise sympathetic expression. She was curled into Ben’s side under a blanket on the same sofa as them while Stan and Patty were mirroring them on the nearby chair. How the two fit in a single seat so perfectly was beyond anyone’s comprehension. Richie, a natural furnace, was fine with his sweater but Mike, Bill, and Eddie were all under their own blankets. 

Eddie stole what would’ve been Richie’s though. Hence why he was being made fun of. In Richie’s defense, he did resemble a grumpy nun. 

“He’s like one of those baby head glob thingies from that twisted alice in wonderland game,” Richie observed mainly to himself with an unbecoming snort. Eddie loathed that he got the reference. 

“At least I don’t have the same build as the fucking card soldiers,” Eddie groached, referring to the general wideness of Richie’s shoulders. Richie gave a surprised laugh. 

“Hold on, how the fuck did you make it through Alice Madness Returns without breaking your controller.” Eddie hadn’t. 

“Fuck off, I shot every goddamn snout too.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” Bill said. 

“Video game,” Eddie and Richie said simultaneously by accident. Beverly laughed and nudged Eddie with her foot from across the couch. Eddie slapped at it from beneath his blanket. Finally, Ben found ‘Tall Girl’ on Netflix. 

Obviously the group of middle-aged adults weren’t going to watch it seriously. They were mainly watching it to clown on the fact that they were _actual_ losers and height had absolutely nothing to do with it. (Clown on? Bad choice of words?) 

Mike already started laughing from his chair on the far right. Stan rolled his eyes. 

“This is what we get for trusting Richie to make entertainment decisions,” Bill said with a weary fondness. 

“As if you weren’t totally down for this,” Richie replied indignantly. “Besides, we’re connecting with the youths, Billiam. I have to find some way to pander to my audience.”

“This ain’t it chief,” Eddie said, his face now completely covered save for his eyes. Hey, he might as well go all in. “The reviews for this sucked from all corners, including the ‘youths’.”

“You’ve referenced a platformer and a meme in the same night, Eds. I’m beginning to think you’re trying to seduce me,” Richie replied with faux shock. Eddie squinted at him from his blanket window, eliciting laughter from Bill and Mike. Richie struggled not to break composure when Eddie squinted a little harder. 

“Just hit play, Ben. They’re going to be like this all night,” Stan said. Eddie worked his hand from beneath his blankets to flip Stan the bird. Patty laughed and kissed her husband on the cheek. 

From the moment the MC made eyes with the typical white boy across from her, Eddie and Richie were already off on a two man take down. 

“Oh yeah, definitely make sure there’s no one behind you. Double check that no one’s sitting in the bookshelf.” 

“Why are all the books color coded? Fuck the Dewey Decimal System I guess.” 

Halfway through the movie, Richie gave an exaggerated groan and flailed his arms out tragically, spinning and dropping his head into Eddie’s lap. His feet hung over the edge of the sofa in a way that couldn’t be comfortable. Eddie made sure to shift his crossed legs so that Richie’s head was cushioned by his thigh rather than getting a lobotomy from his knee. 


	4. No Light, No Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for sexual content (ish?)

  
  


Day three was the day they really set up _plans_ for. At four o’clock, they’d convened in the foyer clad in whatever outdoor gear they deemed best for the occasion. For Eddie, that meant a pair of some rather short shorts, a tank top, and a hoodie with a drawstring bag carrying anything he thought they might need. The outfit wasn’t his normal running gear but Beverly threatened to murder him if he didn’t exchange his entire wardrobe for new items before arriving in Suffolk County. Eddie was fairly sure she was only referring to the polos but better safe than sorry. At least he wasn’t wearing an abhorrent pair of cargo shorts like Richie was. 

“Richie…” Bev said, eyeing him like a lost cause. Richie threw his hands up defensively. 

“Do I look like I leave my house beyond basic necessity? You’re lucky I’m not wearing jeans. Or jorts. Remember our lovely leaders fucking jort and plaid combo when we were kids? I’m 90% sure that’s how he qualified for loserdom.” 

“Bill has a stutter, man,” Mike said with an eyebrow raised. Richie shrugged. 

“Eh. He had the BDE to pull it off though. I’m pretty positive it was the jorts.” 

The Losers had decided on roaming the trails of a state park, of which New York apparently has many, nearly months in advance. Thanks to the forewarning, Stan and Patty came prepared with actual hiking attire complete with sun visors and water bottles clipped to Stan’s belt. It was slightly geriatric but fitting. Ben and Bev had a different color combination of the same outfit from the day before; clearly they weren’t a very indoors couple. The only ‘normally’ dressed nonlocal was Mike (because although Eddie would deny it, his shorts were a little short to be called normal for outdoor exploration. Not that anyone with eyes was complaining. He thinks he may have even heard Mike whistle in the hallway.) (It was actually Bill.)

The entire drive over was spent with Richie and Eddie in the back seats of Beverly’s Jeep making fun of the name of the park being ‘Connetquot’. It took Ben googling it and explaining that it was an Indian word for ‘Long River’ to shut them up. The blessed silence lasted approximately 43 seconds before Eddie said, “They named an entire fucking county ‘long river’?” and they were off again, complaining without any genuine complaints. 

Stan and Patty had taken Bill and Mike over in a much more peaceful Subaru, meeting the others at the gate to the park. 

“Next time,” Beverly huffed. “You two are getting at least one of these assholes.” Richie gasped with feigned offence but Eddie only shrugged because they weren’t exactly wrong. Before Richie could retaliate, Bill gestured to the trail. The trees were tall and air buzzing with soft warmth. 

“Have you guys done this one before or are we going on an adventure today?” Bev beamed and took Ben’s hand, sharing a loving gaze with him. Richie no doubt had a ‘get a room’ joke primed.

“We’ve run it a few times, you might say.” A thought came to Eddie’s mind and he gagged. 

“Oh, ew. If you two say you’ve fucked in the forest I’m officially no longer your friend,” he said with his nose wrinkled at the thought. Everyone started laughing but Bev shot him a sly grin and wiggled her eyebrows. Ben pulled Bev to the trail so as not to allow the conversation any further. 

“She didn’t deny it! She didn’t fucking deny it!” Richie said excitedly, shoving and Eddie’s shoulders. 

“Why are you saying that like it’s a good thing! The fucking moss and mushrooms and shit? Gross! Fucking gross!” 

“So Eddie’s clearly not into exhibitionism,” Richie announced. 

“ _Fuck off._ ”

“Is that a ‘shut up’ fuck off or an ‘actually, I am’ fuck off?” 

“Go to hell, dickwad!” 

“Ah, so you were referring to the first one. Noted.” Richie got punched in the ribs. “Ow! Guys, Eddie’s on a one man mission to single handedly beat me to death!” he called to the others with the tone of a petulant child.

“Set up a GoFundMe. I’ll support the cause,” Stan said flatly. Patty fake slapped his arm with a grin that said she wasn’t as disapproving as her gesture would suggest. 

The park was… a park. Eddie wasn’t one for nature really. It wasn’t that he disliked it necessarily, especially considering where he’d made his best childhood memories, but trees were just trees to him. Neat, there’s a bush. Oh cool, there’s a bird Stan likes. Fun, here’s some more bushes. Truth be told, without all the friendly shenanigans they got up to as kids, Eddie was bored by the scenery. He didn’t get the excitement they did looking at a grassy clearing. Spotting a fox was nice but that lasted exactly ten seconds. He was also desperately trying not to start shit with Richie and interrupt the domestic bliss everyone else had slipped into. Luckily, Richie took notice and dropped to the back of the group where Eddie was eyeing a rock with a dull expression. 

“Not feeling very ‘Sound of Music’ today, Eds?” Eddie frowned up at him. 

“Have you ever seen that movie?” 

“Only the scene where she’s spinning on a hill. She seemed pretty happy with the mountains and grass and all.” 

“That explains it. You’re a heathen, you know that?” Richie grinned and threw an arm over Eddie’s shoulder. “Ew, don’t sweat on me,” Eddie muttered. Richie snorted but didn’t dignify the complaint with a response. The group droned onward in relative peace. It wasn’t the first time Richie had draped his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, nor would it be the last. Eddie knew that. His chest still tightened up regardless. Suddenly, the scenery had exactly zero purchase in his brain. 

It was weird knowing he could tell Richie at any moment. Even now, walking with their friends through the forest, he was fully capable of spilling his guts. All he had to do was say it. Easy as can be. Granted, it would be insanely weird to bring up the fact that he was even gay at the moment, let alone in love with the guy who’d placed a friendly arm over his shoulder, but it was the thought that counted. 

He resolved to tell Richie that night. Enough was enough with the decades of repressed pining. He remembered waking up in a hospital bed and feeling that warm heavy hand in his, an immediate fear surfacing that it was a man’s. He remembered thinking he was sick as a child because everytime Richie wrestled him to the ground, he felt like he was having an asthma attack of fire. He remembered nearly telling Richie as much, hopped up on pain meds in Derry Hospital, only to hear his mother’s voice admonishing him in his head and stopping short for fear of disappointing a dead woman from her grave. In that forest, he decided that he was _done listening_. 

*******

They were lost in a national park at 7:30 in the dark. Everyone had flocked to their phones to see if they could load a contact of some sort. Eddie, tense from earlier anyway, had punched a tree by accident when he realized the internet was out on his own phone and flailed angrily. He then spent the next three minutes cursing as Richie patched up his bleeding fist. 

“I think North is that way? Right? That mountain-” Mike started. 

“No the sun went down over there,” Stan interjected. “That’s gotta be west.” 

“It doesn’t matter which direction the sun was if we don’t know what direction we entered the park from,” Richie said with a perturbed frown. “We just gotta follow the path back, guys, this isn’t rocket science.” He taped the gauze down lightly and flashed a soft smile towards Eddie. Eddie didn’t want Richie’s hands to move away from holding his own but Richie stood and started herding the others back the way they’d come like tired sheep. 

“It’s been hours,” Beverly keened. “ We started on a three mile loop at four and now it’s dark and we’ve been walking for ages. How did we even manage this? Ben and I made it through here just fine!” 

“I did say we should take the bend on the left,” Eddie said. 

“We know!” Everyone practically yelled in response. Eddie scowled and dug through his bag until he found what he needed. 

“Bill, catch.” Bill turned just in time to grab the flashlight Eddie had tossed. He passed a second one to Stan and a third to Richie. 

“I only packed three because I was banking on us having a few more brain cells not to get lost in the middle of a fucking forest with a _path._ They were mainly for fuckin’… looking under things… and stuff.” Richie snorted and side eyed him. 

“You mean Bill dragging us into a creepy cave or something.” 

“Basically.” He also passed out some granola bars that took him off of everyone’s shitlist after the tree punching fiasco. 

“Aw, you even brought snacks!” Mike cooed. Eddie raised him the finger. 

“And I thought Patty was the mom around here,” Richie added with a grin. Eddie tried very hard to stomp his toes but the lanky bastard was fast enough to hop away. With snacks and light to see by, everyone was much more amiable. Eddie’s hand still hurt but at least nobody was outright miserable.

“Alright. I’ll take the front,” Bill began, his voice signifying that he’d put on his ‘leader pants’ according to Richie’s whisper in Eddie’s ear. “Stan you take the middle. Richie, you and Eddie are in the back.” 

“Why do I get assigned seating? I don’t have a flashlight because I gave them all to you guys!” Eddie said incredulously. 

“What, like you’re not going to continue listing off the 6,000 ways you could realistically die via tree punch infection?” Beverly said with exasperation.

“Okay, first of all, it was a fucking accident. I did not see the tree there. Secondly… touche.” Truth be told, Eddie actually wasn’t going to freak out over it - those days were somewhat over thanks to therapy and keeping himself distracted - but he got where they were coming from. Plus, he’d be ‘forced’ to stand next to Richie which was a great excuse if Eddie'd ever seen one. 

As the group assumed formation. Eddie weaved his thumb beneath the strings of his bag. Ironically, it was Richie’s saying from Neibolt that came to mind as they stretched across the terrain. ‘You’re braver than you think.’ He’d fought off an evil demon clown for god’s sake! He’d survived being impaled! What was telling the love of your life that you loved them in the face of getting hauled through the sewers with an open chest wound that Bill accidentally slipped his hand through? 

Yeah, Eddie was never going to forgive him for that one. 

“So, Eduardo. Stuck back here with me, huh?” Richie said with a wink. 

“Yup. Relegated to spend time with your dumb ass,” Eddie replied. Something in his head started yelling that this might be the last time he and Richie would banter like this. His heart sank with the thought but he knew there was no way he could keep this to himself any longer. 

“Impressive that you’re neurotic enough to be in my league of annoyance. I thought I’d earned the title of most irritating for keeps back in the 90s.” Patty was within earshot. If Patty was as much like her husband as she seemed, she’d probably seen this coming. Eddie was fine with that but Richie deserved more privacy.

“Everyone knows we were the dynamic duo of dicks back then, Rich. You weren’t special.” He hadn’t come out to the other Losers. Oh well. They probably knew. He’d always been in a glass closet. Ironically, that was mostly his homophobic mother’s fault. 

“Ouch! Eds gets off a good one! You know 30 years and I finally realize how wrong that sounds.” Richie had come out, what, 48 hours ago at most? This was such a jerk move. It’s a good thing Eddie’s known for being a jerk then. 

“Wow. And I spent 30 years thinking that was on purpose. I shouldn’t have overestimated you.” God, he would miss this. The wrestling in hallways and coming up with rapid fire insults. The casually cozying up to one another during a movie or phone calls on the way home from work like some married couple. They really had been on the phone everyday since Derry. 

“Hey, just because I have my moments doesn’t mean I’m not way smarter than you. You’re talking to a valedictorian, _sweetie_ , show some respect.” Eddie was going to miss his best friend. 

“I… Rich, can we stop a second? It's not like we ever left the path so we can catch up.” Richie glanced at him with a shocked expression but quickly nodded. 

“Yo, Pats!” Patty waved at him. 

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you, dear. Try not to get lost again. I’ll tell the others when they wonder where the bickering backtrack wandered off to.” Eddie took a deep breath to clear his head. His heart was racing but hey, what’s new? He could do this. He was doing this. _Fuck_. Richie chuckled nervously and thanked her before slowing to a stop. Eddie braced himself. 

“I- This is gonna be a ramble.” 

“I figured,” Richie said with a reassuring smile. Of course he noticed how tightly wound Eddie had been. Who hadn’t? Eddie nodded. 

“Okay. Please don’t hate me but I’ve gotta tell you this or I might actually implode.” 

“I’m never going to hate you for literally anything, but okay? Shoot.” Eddie took another deep breath. Was two deep breaths one too many? Not for a guy who was convinced he had asthma but actually had severe anxiety attacks for years, it’s not. He looked up at Richie for one more moment, met with the same bright eyes he’d fallen in love with back before he knew what love meant. He was different now, older and bigger, but still that boy deep down. Eddie loved them both; the kid Richie once was and the man that had taken his place. 

When Eddie finally opened his mouth, the words came out jumbled and fast. Richie was one of maybe three people who could keep up with the speed. 

“So, you know how we were really close as kids? Shit, that’s probably not where I should start but fuck it, why not? I, like, never freaked out when you were near me or we were in the hammock even though I totally would’ve if had been anyone else, or, yeah and the reason that was is kind of also the reason why I didn’t- No look, you see, my mom did the whole ‘your sick’ thing partially because I was gay, proven by me getting married and her being like ‘oh yay, I fixed you’ and the she stopped bugging me about my health-” 

“Wait, what?” Richie looked genuinely appalled and for a split second, Eddie almost backed down until he realized it was directed at the late Mrs. K and not him. 

“Shut up, I’m not done. And it’s a big hunch there anyway-”

“Seems pretty straightforwardly _awful_.”

“-but just shush. Shut it. Basically, I didn’t understand it at the time because I didn’t know I was gay, but apparently she knew because of how I behaved around you- Or, I mean, that’s my guess or whatever because at the Orient I saw you and I just- I’d never felt felt that way towards anyone else or never let myself anyway, so like, I love you? Is what I’m trying to say?” 

Eddie stopped himself from saying anything further and kept his eyes securely on the ground. The silence that ensued was deafening. There were crickets chirping nearby. Richie had the flashlight pointed towards the ground, making the dirt path a bright white save for the shadows it cast where it was pointed. A ladybug was crawling along to the left of Richie’s shoe. Eddie’s gauze was blotted red near his knuckles. There was a slight breeze that made the trees rustle every so often. 

The silence was _deafening_. 

“Look, I needed to tell you and I’m really sorry if that makes you uncomfortable or you don’t want to be around me anymore and-”

“Eds,” Richie interrupted. “Eddie. Are you- Did you mean it?” Eddie’s toes curled in his shoes as he fought himself to look up at Richie. They locked eyes through Richie’s glasses. Eddie’s chest burned. If he hadn’t reminded himself that he didn’t need an inhaler, an ‘asthma attack’ would be rolling full tilt right about now. 

Something about the strange rugged stubble and frizzy, unkempt hair made him seem tired but Richie’s expression read that he’d just lit up. The shock was there, yes, but there was an additional spark there. Eddie wished he could always see that spark. That being said, he probably wouldn’t be able to look his friend in the eye again after this.

“That I love you?” Eddie asked weakly. The bravery he’d had earlier melted away under Richie’s gaze. “Yeah, I um… Yeah.” There was a slight pause before Richie let out an odd choked up laughter-like sound. It wasn’t that Richie found it funny, Eddie could tell, but he couldn’t quite decipher much else from Richie’s response. In fact, Eddie felt almost worried _for_ him with that kind of reaction. Eddie reached out to- what, ground him or something? Whatever the goals were, Eddie quickly pulled back and let whatever _this_ was run its course. Richie ran a shaky hand through his hair and stepped back. Eddie’s heart sank. _Just please don’t be mean. Joke about it, fine, but-_

“Eddie, I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. Fucking teenagers, man.” Richie placed a hand to his face to cover what seemed to be the oncoming threat of tears as Eddie buffered. The dark pit that had festered in Eddie’s chest disappeared faster, but Richie crying wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting from this debacle. 

“Rich- Fucking hell. Hey,” He took the flashlight from Richie and dropped it so he could take both of Richie’s hands in his. The normally poised man in front of him was now definitely crying and trying to hide it so Eddie bumped their foreheads together to try and get Richie’s eyes back on him. God, he always wanted those eyes on him. “Slow down. Slow down, Richie. I- I didn’t think I was gonna fuckin’ break you tonight. This was not what I came prepared for.” Richie gave a wet laugh. 

“Well I wasn’t expecting my childhood crush to just spring that on me a day after he came out so cut me some slack here.” Eddie’s chest tightened up in the good way. The kind when the tv show comes to a resolution after 30 seasons or when you finally hang up your degree after having made it through college. He moved one of his hands to softly hold Richie’s jawline, wiping a tear with his thumb. He felt Richie’s grasp around his hip, tight, as though he was trying to convince Eddie to stay. 

“Sorry about that. I’m not patient and that was step one for me. We clearly had very different pacing on this.” Richie tried to hold it together but couldn’t help genuinely breaking down at that. 

“No sh-it, man,” he croaked. He moved to bury his face in Eddie's shoulder so they resituated to a tight hug, Richie gripping Eddie's tank top like a lifeline. Eddie didn’t realize it but he’d started crying too. 

“Fuck you, dude. I was really keeping it together over here. I didn’t even cry when I punched a fucking tree.” Richie gave what could’ve been a laugh but was mostly undecipherable under the tears. Eddie took the moment to process what this whole ordeal could _actually_ mean. Sure, Richie wasn’t out to anyone other than the Losers, but no one’s going to have this big of a reaction without some kind of relationship ensuing. 

Rather than fret about it, Eddie looked up. The stars were shining pretty goddamn brightly. 

The longest time Eddie Kaspbrack and Richie Tozier had stood quietly in the same vicinity as one another without actively trying to sleep was that night. Where even the most hopeful of couples could normally pull it together within a good minute or two, Richie and Eddie had been through far more than most could imagine. They both had so much to say. They both had so much they wanted to do. They settled on taking the first step of finally letting go long enough for Eddie to pick up the flashlight and briefly scan the surrounding area. 

“Come on, the others are going to have an aneurysm if they have to wait too long in the parking lot,” Eddie said. His voice was justifiably a little shot from bawling a few seconds earlier. Richie chuckled and wiped at his eyes. 

“Fuck, Eds. I hadn’t lost my shit like that since I was a kid until you got shish kebabed last year. Ever since, it’s like you poured Drain-o down my tear ducts.” Eddie snorted and only hesitated a small bit before taking Richie’s hand. Richie froze up but quickly returned a tight grip that was surprisingly substantial. Eddie was could guess Richie would cramp up from that but it was nice so he didn’t tell Richie off for it. 

“Yeah well, I wasn’t even out of highschool for mine so you can shut the fuck up about the crying thing,” Eddie muttered. Richie cheekily leaned over to bump into his side.

“You know this just means we’re emotionally constipated old men, right?” Eddie couldn’t help but giggle. Not that he’d stop himself from laughing here. Normally, he and Richie knew Eddie would reject Richie’s raunchy sense of humor with company, if only to save face for a little while. In reality, Eddie found him fucking hilarious, even on his worst days. A thought crossed his mind, fleeting and terrifying, so in true Eddie fashion, he handled it with the belligerent ferocity of a bull in a china shop. 

“Speaking of old men, if we start, what, dating? You do not call me your boyfriend. Partner? Weird but fine. Boyfriend? We’re fucking 40 years old, Richie. Not a chance.” Richie seemed more relieved than anything, once again on the verge of tears. “Is crying just gonna be a thing for you now? I’m not gonna judge but fair warning please.” 

“You are such an asshole. And yes. God, I love you,” Richie said breathlessly. “I can fucking say that now. I can say that I really love you.” He swiped under his eyes and sniffed. Eddie wormed his hand free of Richie’s to properly put his arm around the man. It was the first time since second grade that Eddie had been the one to initiate that position. Richie buried his face in Eddie’s hair for a moment to catch his bearings. 

“Do not get snot in my hair.” 

  
  


*******

The other Losers were likely perturbed to have waited by the cars for so long but Eddie and Richie would never know. They weren’t paying attention when they’d walked out into the parking lot holding hands. 

It was Stan who connected the dots first as he - Stanley Fucking Uris - had gotten excited enough to shout about it to the others. Being too far away to hear, Richie and Eddie were both perplexed by the display. Stan had seen one of his favorite birds in real life after years of searching and had half the reaction. 

Before either caught on, Beverly was sprinting across the parking lot with her arms out. Eddie instinctively pulled closer to Richie, as he always did in times of uncertainty. She caught them both in a light speed hug that very nearly barreled them over. Ben was second and before long they were in a Losers Club grade hug with Patty sandwiched somewhere between Mike and Bill, fitting there just fine. 

“I am so proud of you idiots,” Stan muttered into the chaos. At least five people cried in the center of that hug but Eddie vehemently denied he was one of them (even though Bill’s shoulder said otherwise). 

“You guys are assholes,” Richie said with what was clearly fake contempt. “We didn’t even say anything.”

“No, Rich, _you_ did,” Mike said. “But Eddie? What the fuck? No heads up?” 

“I’m sorry, did you _need_ one? Name one time I was willing to wait longer than 30 minutes for somebody and it wasn’t Richie.” Beverly looked up from Richie’s shoulder. 

“And have you seen his shorts?” Everyone dispersed like someone had dropped a hive of bees in the center of their hug, knowing what would ensue. Save for Patty but Stan rescued his love with no hesitation. Bill narrowly pulled away fast enough not to get destroyed by Eddie’s elbow as the (somehow) taller man yanked himself free to open his gait and a sprint across the parking lot, hot on Beverly’s heels. He caught her at about halfway across the mile-wide lot, circling her midsection and carrying her in the air as though she was a lamp or a rug he’d bought at Ikea. 

“Ben come get your girl before I chuck her in the lake!” Ben laughed and shook his head. 

“It’s all good, we’ve got towels in the Jeep!” he called back, leaning against Mike. Patty and Stan still had their arms around Richie while Bill was just thanking every lucky star that he’d dodged a near death experience. 

“No!” Beverly yelled, squirming around through fits and giggles. “Ben, how could you betray me! Eddie! Have mercy!” Eddie turned and made a run for the lake to mess with her but eventually slowed down and dropped her to her feet with a wide grin. 

“You’re lucky I know you’d wet dog us like last time,” Eddie said. He was referring to when she’d left the pool on night one of their little Losers retreat and shook her wet hair to spritz everyone who’d toweled off already. Bev attempted to throw her arm over his shoulders but was thrown by the fact that he was taller. It was an easy fact to miss sometimes. Thankfully, he returned the gesture regardless of almost getting smacked in the face. 

“We did it, Eddie. Holy shit. I didn’t even know it but you were right there with me the whole time,” she said softly. Eddie nodded. 

“Yeah, well. Losers stick together and the two of us always had more shit in common than any.” Beverly squinted. 

“I mean, you and Richie have a lot in common…” Eddie snorted.

“Bev, all due respect, you suck at this having not-straight friends thing. You’ve hit like three buttons within three days that I will gladly chew you out for later.” 

“Oh come on! At least I didn’t give Mike’s monologue on why he didn’t think Richie was gay. Wait, does this make you bi?” Eddie shook his head looking pensive for a moment. 

“No… No, it makes me a fucking survivor for having made it through Myra in the first place.” Beverly gave him a tight squeeze.

“You should tell the others that before someone asks ‘why trashmouth over another x chromosome?’” Bev suggested, specifically (poorly) imitating Bill’s voice. Eddie snorted. 

“Yeah, maybe when I say it out loud in words, I will.” It took her a minute but once Beverly got it she leaned her head against him and sighed. 

“Well, I’m happy for you regardless, Eds.” 

“Regardless of what?” Richie asked. In the time that it had taken for Eddie and Beverly to stroll back, Stan had already set about attacking Richie with Patty’s shoe. Internally, Eddie noted that he should probably give Richie a break from any further rough housing for the sake of his physical health. 

“Regardless of dating someone with a five head. It really was a sacrifice. I’m guessing by Stan’s shoe up your ass that we’re taking Ben and Bev’s Jeep to the house,” Eddie replied mercilessly. Richie only grinned because that was another small confirmation that he’d officially caught a wild Eddie all for his own.

“Actually,” Ben said with a smile. “I was thinking we could stop at Lenny’s. I mean- Yes, I assume you guys are riding with us, Eddie, but we know for a fact Lenny’s should be open and their pizza is pretty amazing.” 

“Oh thank fuck. I’m starving and riding with the Urises right now could result in my untimely death,” Richie replied. Stan swatted him in the head once more before passing the shoe to Patty. 

“I can’t believe I willingly signed up for this,” Eddie said, throwing a hand out for Richie’s. He looked nearly starstruck but managed to grab it before Eddie’s hand swung back naturally. Yeah, Eddie could’ve held it out, but neither of them had really talked about the whole PDA thing. In reality, they’d launched into a heated debate regarding whether or not Richie’s pasta nicknames were allowed in bed (they were high on adrenaline, you can’t really blame them for delving into the dick jokes immediately).

“I can,” Stan grumbled. Patty chuckled and pat his arm.

“Come on, love. Cool it. We’ve got places to be.” She threw her arms around Bill and Mike, pulling them towards the Subaru. Richie’s grip was just as tight as earlier. Eddie supposed that would be the norm. Not that he minded. It was warm and reassuring and most of all _grounding_. The anxiety spinning in his head could be briefly ignored thanks to a pressure on his palm he could focus on. Richie really was a great stress ball.

They only let go to properly enter the Jeep, Beverly flashing Eddie a grin. Eddie flipped her off, because, ya know, Eddie, but he appreciated their earlier conversation. 

The second his ass hit the seat, his phone buzzed with a text. He didn’t even question who it was, sliding his feet over to tangle with Richie’s across the floor as he opened the phone. He knew they had to have far more boundary conversations than leaving it at ‘call me weird forms of pasta during romantic moments and I will make you feel pain’.

**Richie** : hi so uh

 **Richie** : i wanted to say something abt the whole mom thing?

Eddie frowned across at him and Richie gave a sheepish grin. Up front, Beverly and Ben had started discussing something about a branch hitting the roof of the house the night before. 

**Eddie** : You can’t tell someone who’s trauma completely revolves around their mother that you want to talk about the ‘mom thing’. Especially not after joking about fucking her for three decades. 

**Richie** : okay ya fair but you mentioned that ‘fix u’ thing and honestly that alone was,,, 

**Richie** : r u ok bro?

 **Eddie** : Bro? Seriously, Rich? I’m fine, dumbass. That’s what therapy is for.

 **Eddie** : I think there were a ton of reasons for her behavior, she just inadvertently admitted that that was one of them. 

**Richie** : ooo damn with the big words eds 

**Eddie** : Brain cells, Rich. You lack them. 

**Richie** : i graduated college on these brain cells luv thank u very much

 **Eddie** : So did I? And?

 **Richie** : also like

 **Richie** : you know i’m famous right? i want to hold your hand and stuff but people will talk

 **Richie** : whichtobeclearimfinewith

 **Richie** : i’m just saying,,, you’d be signing up for that

 **Eddie** : Yeah, well, I love you so they’re just going to have to deal with this ugly mug.

 **Richie** : fuck you that mug is literally the best i’ve ever seen and i may legimately swoon edie,,, 

**Eddie** : :) 

**Richie** : :))))))))

 **Richie** : love you too p a r t n e r

 **Eddie** : I will knife u.

 **Richie** : <3

 **Eddie** : Are you going to get car sick looking at your phone like this?

 **Richie** : nooooo

 **Richie** : yessss

 **Eddie** : Absolute idiot. We’ll talk more at home. I still have something to tell you that’s probably going to make us cry again. 

**Richie** : haha can’t wait

 **Richie** : please tell me you heard the sarcasm

 **Eddie** : It’s nothing bad, stop googling shit like you’re subtweeting what I just said.

 **Richie** : r u psychc???

 **Eddie** : No, the reflection on your fucking window. Phone down so you don’t vomit please. 

**Richie** : ur not my keeper

 **Eddie** : How are your kneecaps fairing post-derry?

 **Richie** : phone down phone going down now

 **Eddie** : >:) 

Sure enough, Richie exaggerated dropping it like it was scalding hot. Eddie shook his head fondly. 

*******

“... So I said, ‘What the hell? Just blend them! Blend them in the mixer, I’m sure it’ll turn out _great_.’” Richie gestured like he was pressing down a button as Beverly gasped. The whole table was practically shaking with laughter and if he leaned carefully, Eddie could catch sight of a silent couple near the back of the restaurant desperately trying not to join them. 

“First bzzz. Lid doesn’t budge. By some act of god. So I think, well, time to turn it up some, right?” 

“No! Richie!” Mike cried. 

“Yes, Richie! I turned that sucker up to ten! Let’s get this bread, right?” Eddie buried his face in his hands, trying to breathe properly through the laughter.

“Du-umbass,” he wheezed. Richie beamed at him for only a second but it was a second he wasn’t performing for. It was nice to realize that Eddie always had that second to himself. 

“And sure enough, it is _everywhere_ . Floor, ceiling- the fucking laundry room got doused! And I call my roommate over I’m like ‘uh… well… there is no longer rat… in your soup… it now belongs to the laundry room’ and I fucking _leave_. No further words exchanged. Zip, zero, nada. True story. Rat a la soup! Bon appetit, Mr. Washing Machine.”

“You _bastard_ ,” Bill said into Ben’s shoulder where he’d taken refuge. 

“What? Modern problems require modern solutions! I was improvising!” The waitress came around and no one was quite functional yet so Richie listed off their desert order with frightening accuracy. Eddie looped his arm with Richie’s and leaned against him, not caring about what anyone might see or say for that moment because they were all rolling. Richie seemed rather pleased. 

“Yeah, Bill, you’ve got nothing on me, _bud_ . Anyone else got a good old fashioned dorm story or have I outdone you all with mine own fucked experiences.” Richie leaned back against Eddie and intertwined their fingers. _Nice_. 

“I once broke my roommate's nose for bringing balloons home on their birthday. The red kind too! Who buys plain red balloons?” Ben exclaimed. 

“You broke someone’s nose? Haystack! You’re like a teddy bear with AK-47s! No one thought you’d use them!” Richie said, throwing out a hand to poke at Ben’s biceps. Beverly slapped his hand playfully. “Wait, wait. Okay, who else here caused clown related bodily harm to someone. I killed Bowers, Ben broke a guy's nose, who’s next?” Mike raised his hand sheepishly. 

“I didn’t hit him but I fired an actual shotgun at a guy on my property who was wearing red and white,” he admitted. “He was a solicitor but he wasn’t soliciting me shit that day.” 

“Oh my god,” Bev said into her hands. “We’re such bad people.” Richie kicked her under the table. 

“Of the traumatized variety! Bev? Bill?” 

“Hey! Stan and I have clown trauma too!” Eddie contested. 

“Yeah but clearly yours are gonna be the most chaotic ones,” Richie replied with a wink. “Best for last.”

“He’s… not wrong,” Stan said. Mike gaped at him. 

“I nearly shot a guy! How is your story more chaotic!” Patty laughed and leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder.

“You have no idea, dear.” 

*******

In all of Eddie’s life, there had been two places he would enter and immediately think ‘ah, this is home’. Eddie’d never had a connection to places and things quite like his friends. He was in it for the experiences and people. But those two actual landmarks had both been built by Ben Hanscom. As the other Losers yawned and made their way through the foyer of the Hanscom household, Eddie and Richie flitted between nervous bickering and straight up stalling long enough for everyone to part ways for the night. 

“What is it with you and the banjo thing, man? Nobody’s given a shit about banjos since the 70s,” Eddie grumbled. He was leaning up against the kitchen counter, haloed by the warm light above the sink as Stan fixed two cups of decaf tea. The tapping of Eddie’s foot set a drummer's tempo that, while sitting on said counter, Richie was matching with childish kicking. Stan grinned inwardly before wandering off down the hall with his and Patty’s tea in hand. 

“As long as Steve Martin walks this earth, banjo is relevant and that is law,” Richie said matter of factly. The sound of Stan’s door clicking closed echoed through the hall. Eddie spun on his heel to face Richie dead on. The taller man’s previously open legs snapped shut as he completely froze. It was a slightly entertaining display. 

“Rich.” 

“Yeah?” Richie replied. His voice was a little pitchier than usual. Eddie couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of his chest. 

“You’re too high up on the counter, idiot.” Richie made a soft ‘oh’ sound and dropped to his feet. Eddie only leaned back rather than stepping away, leaving barely inches between them once Richie had landed. Part of him wanted to break all three decades of tension they’d built up and another part of Eddie screamed to be a dick and draw it out. 

Well, it had been previously established that he was, in fact, a dick, so Eddie chose to push up against Richie and weave his fingers through the man’s belt loops, making direct eye contact the entire time. Richie got the hint immediately. This wasn’t making a move. This was a _challenge_. 

“You are such an asshole,” Richie practically whispered. Eddie grinned. 

“Just evening the playing field.” Richie’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What, like you didn’t have your hands on me constantly growing up?” Eddie was enjoying the sight of Richie’s chest moving up and down a little faster as his face went red. The fire in his eyes was making Eddie more likely to lose the game _he_ ’d started. Especially when Richie leaned down slightly to reply. 

“And those shorts? Bold of you to assume that wasn’t payback in the first place.” They both knew that they’d inadvertently flirted with their ‘straight’ best friend for literal decades, something that generally garnered disapproval nowadays, but that wasn’t the point. They were still playing up to Eddie’s challenge. ‘You liked me just as much back then so _you_ make the first move’. Eddie pushed up on his tiptoes to press their foreheads together. It was a last ditch effort for Richie to break. 

“Anything else to make up for from back then?” he murmured. Richie eyed Eddie’s lips and softly cupped his jaw. Eddie hadn’t felt something so genuinely loving since- well, ever, actually. Richie opened his mouth to respond but Eddie broke just in time to catch him in an already open mouthed and _heated_ kiss. Eddie didn’t hold back and judging by the sounds he was getting, he certainly didn’t need to. 

Richie was loud. Really fucking loud. Eddie knew he wouldn’t exactly be quiet, but between the guttural moans and how tightly Eddie was holding him against the counter, Eddie wasn’t sure if he could take the sudden heat pooling in his abdomen without doing something about it. You know, something that two old assholes who’d taken four decades to come out were definitely not ready to attempt. When he pulled back in the slightest, however, Richie absentmindedly came with him. The safety switch wasn’t exactly working on either of their systems at the moment. It took Eddie snaking his hand between them and softly pressed against Richie’s broad chest for him to realize what was happening and let Eddie pull away for a breath. 

“Fuuuck,” Richie said. They were both panting pretty heavily. Eddie merely grinned and caught Richie’s eyes again, blown and blue. “Not bad considering I’ve been in love with you since before I knew how sex worked.” Richie added with a breathless laugh and dropped his head onto Eddie’s shoulder. 

“I didn’t expect to kiss you in Ben’s fucking kitchen, I can tell you that much.” Eddie shook his head and glanced over. “I am glad he gave you the soundproof door though. You’re fucking loud. Not that I… ” Richie had the bright idea to turn and press his mouth to the space between Eddie’s jaw and neck, catching Eddie by surprise and causing an odd, ‘Ah-h’ sound. Eddie felt Richie grin before biting down. He was 90% sure he could officially die right then and there. “Rich, come on, man…” 

He meant to say they should take it slow since they had all the time in the world. He meant to say they should part ways for the night or something because that was what new couples were supposed to do. But were they a new couple? Could they really call themselves that after the years of dancing around one another, locked in a game of give and take until the day they were forcibly torn apart?

No. Maybe it wasn’t responsible in the slightest to let his guard so far down on their first night, but fucking hell, when Richie ran his big hands down to the back of his Eddie’s thighs, Eddie knew he wasn’t going to pull away. If Richie had even bothered having this dilemma, he’d clearly gotten over it as he ran his leg between Eddie’s, specifically gathering friction near Eddie’s dick. Eddie grunted, grabbing at Richie’s sides for purchase. He wasn’t sure if he liked his lack of control in the situation but Eddie trusted Richie. He knew Richie wouldn’t move unless he responded. 

Eddie chose a double edged approach to flipping the dynamic they’d assumed so far. He knew from Richie’s fantastic tendency to overshare that hair pulling was on the table. Step one was getting a good grip at the base of Richie’s neck. It was tight enough for Richie to pause and let out a hot breath against Eddie’s shoulder blade. The second part of Eddie’s master plan was to snake his other hand down to palm at Richie’s dick, tugging the man’s hair simultaneously. Richie gave what was practically a whine and pulled back against the counter. Eddie smirked at the newfound purchase over Richie’s neck and set about on his ultimate mission of leaving a hickey there. He didn’t care how juvenile the goal was, Richie clearly wasn’t stopping him. 

“Eds,” Richie practically hissed. His grip on Eddie’s thighs got tighter. Eddie palmed him harder in response. Neither wanted to move but the sound that ensued was a pretty big warning that they were on the verge of alerting their friends. 

“Room,” Eddie muttered, pulling away fast enough to literally cause a wind gust. He caught Richie’s hand and yanked it with him. 

“Those fucking shorts,” Richie whispered with literal awe in his voice. Eddie had half a mind to shush him, even at the low volume, but when he glanced back and saw Richie’s gaze directly situated on his ass, he only grinned to himself and resolved to really earn the compliment. 

The second the door was locked, Richie was on him from behind, hands roaming with an experience that Eddie definitely did not share. He wanted to, though. With every fiber of his being, he wanted to wrap his hands around Richie’s dick with a clear plan on how to fuck the life out of his partner. He wanted to put Richie on cloud nine and meet him there. He wanted to sprawl Richie out across the bed and show each and every inch of his wide body the love it deserved. 

Richie gnawing on his shoulder and pulling him backwards to the bed was more than enough to get the ball rolling tonight though. 

“I have no fucking clue how to do this,” Eddie breathed out. Richie pulled back. Shit. Okay. Left turn then. 

“Fuck, do you want to? I don’t- I’m not used to anything beyond a one night stand so I am fucking clueless here too.” Eddie rolled his eyes and turned to face him properly, delving into kissing Richie with the same ferocity he brought to any task, just with the added pleasure or Richie’s response. Richie was moving in a stop and start fashion that Eddie didn’t really know what to make of so far. He curled his fingers in Richie’s hair and felt hands on his sides. 

“What do _you_ want? I ditched any hesitations about thirty seconds ago but it’s been like, 6 hours since I thought I’d lose my best friend.” He searched Richie’s eyes for any clue on the matter. They were wide and blown and honestly a little scared. 

“I- Okay, uh- Clothes on?” The response was rushed and sounded more like a guess than a genuine request. Regardless, Eddie could work with that. He quirked an eyebrow. 

“No touching my dick then, asshat,” he replied flatly. The smile Eddie was sporting made the humor there pretty obvious. Richie’s shoulders released the pent up tension Eddie had been sensing since he’d entered Richie’s atmosphere in the kitchen and he let out a soft laugh. 

“I’ve uh… never gone slow before. Sorry.” Eddie tilted his head and brought his thumb to sweep across Richie’s stubbled cheek. The concept that anyone would just take what they wanted from him, then ditch legitimately hit Eddie in the chest. Or that Richie would’ve. It hurt to think bout. 

“Your heart’s too big for that,” Eddie whispered softly. He didn’t mean to say it out loud but it slipped out before he could get the reins on it. Richie gave a surprised chuckle. Rather than expound upon that, Eddie decided to pull him into another kiss. They could talk shop later. 


	5. Higher Ground

Waking up next to Richie Tozier was possibly one of the most amazing yet strange experiences of Eddie Kaspbrack’s life. The light snore, insane bed head, and (somewhat gross) drooling not even a hand’s width from his face was something he would’ve previously never allowed anywhere near. The warmth of the room and the way light danced across the soft bed sheets left a warm feeling of contentment in the chest of someone who was otherwise fueled by anxiety. It was a welcome change. 

The night before had been a mess really. Around one in the morning, they were both more than ready to knock out, but Eddie had a routine from hell to maintain. Neither wanted to part for separate lodging of course, so long story short, Eddie needed to buy Richie a new razor from knocking it into the toilet bowl and Richie had workshopped a new Albanian Voice while star-fished out on what was now _their_ bed. They hadn’t fucked but the state of their shoulders would gladly say otherwise. Not to mention, they both took questionably long showers. 

Eddie eyed a purple haze along Richie’s collarbone and smiled. He’d made that. Fuck yeah. 

The will power necessary to leave the snug sheets and venture to the bathroom was fueled by the pain in Eddie's bladder alone. On the upside, it’s not like the rustling of the bed sheets was going to wake up the half dead log beside him. Somewhere into the less heated and more tender phase of their make out session, Richie had taken his shirt off. When Eddie was brushing his teeth, he kept getting distracted by Richie’s bare chest in the mirror’s reflection. Last night he was ready to throw every hesitation out the window on a whim thanks to that goddamn chest. 

Eddie wasn’t great at patience. 

With a sigh, he glanced down at his haphazardly buttoned pajamas. They were a light grey he’d liked initially but to be honest, one of these days, Richie was losing a shirt that would never be returned. With the fuzzy feeling that thought left him with, Eddie stepped out into the hall to greet the other Losers. 

“Eddie! You’re up! Who’s taking whose last name?” Bev teased. Eddie flipped her his middle finger and reached for the coffee pot. He’d probably drank more caffeine within the past week than he had in his entire life. Well, save for that time Richie conned him into downing an entire Monster post-op when he was tired of the morphine making him sleepy. A hyper-active bedridden Eddie is a _bad_ Eddie. Neither of them would hear the end of that one. 

Stan and Patty were reading the paper together, hand in hand at the kitchen nook. They seemed content as always. Bill and Mike were across from them playing a peaceful round of checkers with Bev as the over excited commentator. 

“Relegated to feeding us again, Ben?” Eddie asked, sporting with a soft smile. Ben gently sat a pan in the sink, a sense of humble pride washing over his features. 

“Trust me, if Mike’s busy and our only other option is Beverly to cook for us? You’re more than free to order takeout immediately, no matter what time of day.” Bev chuckled behind him. Her palms were on the edge of the kitchen table as she leaned over the checkers game.

“Aw, no faith in me or Bill, honey? Not even a little bit?” she said with a 50s housewife lilt. Ben shook his head and leaned down to whisper in Eddie’s ear but loudly enough that it was clearly meant for everyone’s amusement. 

“Shhh, don’t listen to her. I still want this kitchen for a good year or two.” Eddie laughed and elbowed Ben and his sweet dad humor. He’d probably wind up with a kid one day. It would be fitting. Part of him wondered if Richie could cook. No one had thought to ask. 

“What do we even have planned today?” Eddie said. He got five noncommittal shrugs and/or noises that made him frown. “Feel free to pencil in the rest of my calendar while you’re at it, guys.” 

“My calves are on fire after yesterday,” Mike said with an emphasis on ‘fire’. 

“Same,” Bill grunted. Eddie gave an amiable nod and glanced into the hall. Light was streaming in through the many windows of the open bedroom doors. 

“Yeah, well, not everyone hides in their house 24/7. I’m going for a run.” Eddie yet again downed his coffee with ruthless efficiency right as Ben dished out a traditional American breakfast. Eddie grabbed a croissant and set about getting his actual exercise gear. It consisted of his black Nike long sleeve and some honest to god yoga pants that he was well aware he’d get made fun of for. He threw the shorts from the day before on over them after some pretty intense contemplation about the cleanliness of the action. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered Richie complimenting them, causing his face to burn for a few seconds before he snuck out into the morning light. 

The beams of sun were warm but beneath the shade of the trees surrounding Ben’s property, the cool morning gave Eddie goosebumps. Dew pooled to sparkle on the grass like gemstones. Eddie felt as though he’d stepped into an aesthetic instagram edit like the ones that haunted his ‘for you’ page next to the cat pictures he’d never own up to enjoying. The thought made him smile. Like Twitter, he had only really joined to keep in touch with the Losers. Mike had the best account out of all of them.

Eddie took a moment to really fill his lungs with the crisp spring air before stretching out properly in the driveway. Stan and Patty’s Subaru sat neatly next to the haphazardly parked Mustang that undoubtedly belonged to Richie. Bev’s Jeep seemed the most at home in the scenery. She’d mentioned buying it back in 2011 as an ode to her inner love of the outdoors that she rarely ever saw anymore. Eddie liked to think it was some kind of fate that the Jeep would wind up here, tucked among the trees in this menagerie of vehicles. Eddie noticed that his Escalade was just as out of place as Richie’s obnoxious red sports car. He still didn’t know what Bill, Mike, and Ben drove. They’d already claimed the spots in the garage. 

After a brief moment of pondering, Eddie shifted his thoughts back to running. Damn ADHD. 

Before Derry, the most running he’d done was to board the right train or catch his papers before the wind blew them away all shitty rom-com style. After having his insides temporarily hollowed out, however, he had become accustomed to physical therapy and it’s end made him antsy during the long uneventful weeks once the divorce had been finalized. When it concluded, he naturally pursued other areas. 

The first week had been tennis. Tennis unsurprisingly ended in tossing his racket out a window when he’d gotten back to the apartment. 

Running was a great replacement though. Initially, he’d been weary about the pressure it might put on his lungs. Eddie had spent decades being told he wasn’t capable of physical activity due to those lungs. After having been impaled and nearly losing one, suffice to say his first jog had ended pretty abruptly with a panic attack. Then, his therapist told him to use the activity to ground himself in his body instead of getting lost in his head and ever since, running had been a major facet of Eddie’s free time. In no time, he was pushing himself at a punishing pace, treating the ground only as leverage to pull him further faster. The burn in his diaphragm was something new and almost coveted as it meant they were working just fine rather than tightening up in the throws of an anxiety induced shut down. 

Eddie never tracked his miles. It was a nice unknown. It convinced him to listen to his body rather than allow a number to determine how much farther he could go. 

The path he’d wound up on was winding, filled with the occasional landmine of a rock or a downed tree branch. Eddie was always vigilant of the ground before him, hopping gracefully over menacing twigs or dips in the road. It took a few minutes more than usual to really lose himself in the exertion. There was a creek at his right eventually. A bird squeaked at him and fluttered off when he jogged down a hill. All he was focused on was how he threw his weight, pushing forward and loving every second of it. 

It would’ve been nice to run as a kid. Eddie could almost imagine it, tiny and light, unmarred by the kind of the people he’d come to surround himself with in ten years time. Young Eddie could’ve broken landspeed records if he’d put his mind to it. 

When Eddie got back to the house, pandemonium was ensuing on the front lawn. He wasn’t even surprised. Richie had to wake up eventually. 

He may have been a sweaty, heaving mess but he wasn’t as drenched as Ben was by a long shot. They were forming a human pyramid with Patty holding a camera not far from the pile on. It seemed like fun but only in hell would Eddie admit that. Mike caught sight of Eddie coming around the corner and nearly toppled Beverly to wave. 

“Eddie! You’re level two!” Eddie rolled his eyes but slowed his jog to a stop next to a displeased Stan. 

“What… the fuck… are you idiots doing,” Eddie heaved out between breaths. Ben, Mike, and Richie were on all fours on the grass while Beverly balanced herself on Ben and Mike’s backs, her hands pressed between each man’s shoulders.

“Losers Club family photo 2017,” Mike replied with a pleased grin. 

“Come on, Eds! Top me!” Richie said, garnering groans and a few Beeps. Eddie ran a hand over his face but complied. 

“This is going to end horribly,” Stan grumbled. Patty giggled and shoved his shoulders, breaking his stoic expression to crack a smile. Eddie approached the teetering human mass almost hesitantly, unsure of how to basically ‘mount’ Richie and Mike. Eddie noticed Richie’s shirt hanging loosely enough to reveal some hickeys from the night before. That didn’t help. Part of him died of embarrassment knowing the others had clearly seen them but on the other hand, _nice_. 

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Bill said reassuringly. “No matter how poorly this goes, it won’t be worse than when we had Stan in the second row.” Stan’s expression soured. 

“You were gonna be the star on this christmas tree until Stan bit the dust and some of Mike’s ass,” Richie explained with a grin. Stan leveled him with a glare that was far more deadly than any beeping. 

“And what if I, like Stan, do not want any of Mike’s ass,” Eddie asked flatly. Mike chuckled and shook his head. 

“Aw, so you really are all in on monogamy!” Richie said. “I’m touched! The issue was that Stan’s too tall. You should be just fine,” he added with a wink. Eddie flipped him off. 

“That why Bill’s on top of Bev and I?”

“Oh my god. Bill’s shorter than Eddie, isn’t he?” Mike said with wide eyes. 

“That feels wrong,” Ben added. Eddie scoffed and reached his hand across to land on Mike’s shoulder. This would be far easier if Richie wasn’t so goddamn wide. 

“I’m guessing Bill was tall as a kid?” Patty asked. Bill seemed relatively unphased. 

“Kinda?” he replied with a shrug.

“More like Eddie was a pipsqueak,” Richie said. Eddie decided to put most of his weight on the knee into Richie’s lower back as he joined Bev in the air. “Ow- I felt that you little shit!” Eddie leaned down behind Richie’s ear and spoke in a threatening whisper. 

“Call me short again, I dare you.” Eddie gathered that he was suitably flustered by his lack of a response, smiling smugly. Bill took a deep breath. 

“Alright, guys. I’m next. Everybody brace yourselves. Stan, help me up.” Stan gave a resolute nod and stood next to everyone’s backsides, lacing his fingers together and holding them out as a step for Bill. Patty readied her camera to capture whatever event was about to take place. 

*******

“If you hit me with that fucking shell, we’re getting a divorce!” That? That was from Patty. If Eddie wasn’t so focused on catching up to Beverly, he’d feel some kind of shock from that statement. 

“Hey Bev, mind referring a lawyer?” Stan said cheekily as he sent the shell careening into Patty’s Toad. Her battle cry was legendary. 

Thanks to a little impromptu spring shower forcing everyone inside, Mario Kart had been Richie’s brainchild of the morning. Most time killers were, it seemed. At first it was a great idea, but considering that this was the sheer volume of round one, part of Eddie wondered if the suggestion was an attempt to upheave the unnaturally mature peace they had cultivated over the past week. Bill and Ben had taken off to fix some leak in the main room caused by the rain and a tree branch while the others lost their shit at the PS4 game. 

“Whoever loses passes it to Mike. If we can get Patty and Stan this invested, how will our zen buddha of the group fair?” Richie said with a grin. Mike looked up from his Twitter feed with an oblivious smile before refocusing on it, hunched over his phone in the nearby chair. In truth, he had no plans to play himself; he was too invested in a lead about hometown horrors growing across America. He wasn’t going to rob Richie of his chance to shine. Bev tossed back a banana peel that made Eddie’s Waluigi spin out and nearly crash. 

“Fucking- Bev! You piece of moldy cheese!” Eddie yelled, causing her to actually crash and the entire group to start laughing. 

“Eds! Eddie! What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Richie cried. 

“Shut up! I’m tryna win, dickface!” He angrily jack rabbit kicked at Richie’s shin from across the sofa, sending Richie laughing even harder because the very angry gremlin missed. When he finally passed Bev, he gave a shout of triumph and physically jumped up. 

“No! The race isn’t over, Eddie, get your ass back on the couch!” Bev yelled. Richie hooked a finger through his belt loop and pulled him back to a seated position. Out of nowhere, Patty bulleted past all the characters to everyone’s dismay. 

“Babylove, how could you?!” Stan said. Richie gaped at him. 

“Babylove? Fucking babylove?!” Richie mocked. Eddie nearly hit another banana peel but narrowly avoided it. Beverly was not so lucky. 

“No! N- Stan?! Where the- Eddie, take him down!” she yelled furiously as Shy Guy flew past her. 

“I’m trying!” Eddie growled. Stan gave a borderline sadistic laugh as he nailed Eddie dead on with a blue shell. Eddie nearly broke the controller. 

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?!”

“And the Urises pull ahead on the final lap,” Richie announced in a booming British announcer voice. “Can the rage demon and his redhead cohort overtake them before the finish line?” Eddie would've flicked him off if he’d had the presence of mind beyond wanting to absolutely murder Shy Guy. 

At that moment, as high strung as everyone was, they were entirely focused on the prospect of either winning MarioKart, rooting against the love of their life who was playing said MarioKart, or the existence of demon manatees along the Floridian coast. That was it. They paid no attention to the increasingly frantic patter of water on the windowsill or the slight howl of wind through the grey sky outdoors. When a massive crack of lightning struck in what was basically Ben’s front yard, everyone was suitably _terrified_. 

Patty was the least affected as the least traumatized of the home’s inhabitants. When the lights and TV flickered out, followed by the almost bomb-like rumble, she flinched but was mainly disgruntled by the loss of her lead. As bright white light flashed through the many many windows, Stan ducked, Beverly screamed, Richie and Eddie clung to each other like their lives depended on it, and an ominous thump could be heard from the hall. Mike hadn’t noticed. He was still engrossed in the manatees. 

“Fuck!” Richie yelled. Eddie hadn’t felt an adrenaline spike like that in ages and he sure as shit didn’t miss the uncalled for rush of pure fear. The most impressive part of the ordeal was how quickly he’d dropped the controller in favor of grabbing fistfuls of Richie’s shirt and hiding himself in Richie’s arms like some damsel in distress. Tentatively pulling back but not releasing the shirt, Eddie noticed the crooked skew of Richie’s glasses as he looked around wildly. 

Bev launched off of the couch, registering the earlier thump. 

“Ben? Honey? Where are you?” With the lights completely out, the grey oppressive nature of the sky bled into the room, casting dark shadows over them all. Beverly disappeared into the dark hall behind them. Mike glanced up from his phone and did a double take. 

“Shit, what happened?” 

“Lightning,” Stan croaked wearily. Patty’s eyebrows drew up in concern and she dropped the controller in favor of cozying up next to him on the opposing chair. Eddie vaguely discerned that their posture mimicked his and Richie’s automatic response from the start. Richie brought his hand up from Eddie’s hip - leaving a noticeable lack of warmth there - to cup Eddie’s jaw again. The gesture made Eddie’s chest tight in the good way. It was a welcome distraction from his heart rate. 

“Guess Waluigi’s not winning this round, huh, Eds?” Richie said. Eddie felt a grin spread across his face unwillingly. The fact that he was fighting it clearly pleased Richie even further. 

“C’mon, you saw Patty’s lead. That was never gonna happen,” Eddie faux grumbled just to be obtuse. Richie chuckled and pulled Eddie against him again in a tight hug. It was one hell of a comfort in the eerie darkness cast over the charged space, energetic from the tap tap tapping of the water outside. It was loud and silent all at once. 

“I’m going to go check on Bill and Ben,” Mike said in a quiet tone, noting the shaky atmosphere. Patty gently took Stan's hand and pulled him to his feet as well. Eddie and Richie, ever the pack animals, both considered joining one of the two departing parties. Stan and Patty were whispering amongst themselves and heading for their room so that clearly would be an intrusion and the other Losers would be fine. After a brief glance in the direction of their friends, Eddie buried his face in Richie’s chest again. It was broad and comfy and Eddie was beginning to think this might be a thing for him. 

“And then there were two,” Richie said with a soft chuckle. It rumbled against Eddie’s ear. Somewhere along his spine decided that the way they were turned to face each other while sitting on the sofa was insufficient. He could’ve asked or done what most people would do and said literally anything, but this was Eddie. He chose to loop his hands under Richie’s closer knee and forcibly spin the man to face him. Richie was unsurprisingly pliant as this was how they functioned: Eddie pushing and pulling physically while Richie pushed and pulled verbally. Eddie found some amusement in how annoying their dynamic could be for those around them, especially when they were really amped. With Richie’s legs bracketing Eddie’s hips, Eddie spread out across the sofa and laid down, once again using Richie’s torso as a pillow. When Richie’s arms still hung in the air, as if waiting for direction, Eddie glanced up at him with a pang of worry that this had been the wrong move. Instead, he met Richie’s watery eyes as he was trying not to cry again. 

“Rich?” Richie’s arms circled Eddie again finally and he slid done the couch a little to properly brace his back with the arm rest. He didn’t respond but the soft smile and fond gaze Richie was giving was enough to put Eddie’s worry at ease. He was just a little overwhelmed was all. Instead of being kind and letting him process, Eddie decided to be mean and make it worse. “I love you. A lot.” Richie shook his head and laughed, probably as a tactic to prevent the tears from spilling over. 

“Love you too, Spagheds.”


	6. Heaven Can Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning! Plot-filled inherently ADHD sex scene ahead!

Richie was coming with Eddie to New York City. It was as simple as 1, 2, 3. 

  1. “You live on the other fucking coast.”
  2. “And? I’m a sad sack comedian who doesn’t even have a cat to feed. I can go hang with you.” 
  3. “That- Okay?” 



They really should’ve talked about it more but when they weren’t cheerily fucking around with their childhood friends, they were hornily fucking around with each other. Sure they hadn’t gotten past second base (save for that time Richie nearly sent Eddie over the edge by groping a little too much, even though Eddie would vehemently deny it took that little for the  _ life of him _ ) but the point was, their mouths were far to busy with other things to let Eddie properly voice his concerns. The main one being that, unlike Richie, he absolutely did not want to go back to his own apartment. 

Sure, he was a New Yorker to his core, but something about it, about being with such a warm person in such a cold environment, it made him fear that the light Richie always carried with him would get snuffed out. Logically, that made no sense. Richie not only had an SNL stint that lasted a literal decade in his repertoire, but that light was always there, shining whenever the Losers club was plunged into darkness and needed something to see by so the dark wouldn’t swallow them whole. 

Eddie blinked at himself in the rearview mirror, internally scolding himself for being a drama queen. 

The point stood. Richie was going to be fine in New York City and Eddie would have to accept that the cold prison he’d held himself in for years was about to be as warm as a summer day. He’d have to accept being happy. That thought was far scarier, come to think of it. 

With a sigh, Eddie opened up the bluetooth option on his dashboard and clicked through to contacts. He wasn’t going to make it through this entire drive silently stuck in traffic without flipping his shit. His hand hovered over the Loser’s contacts for a moment. Finally, he glanced up at the red rear lights of the car in front of him and pressed a random number. The name ‘book hermit 2.0’ popped up as it wrung Mike. 

Above him on the list was ‘book hermit: the bookening’, the name for Bill’s contact. When Ben texted Eddie that morning at breakfast, Richie had caught sight of ‘bricks and bones may break my bones but words also hurt me’ and laughed so hard he nearly fell over. 

“Why the fuck is it that long? Jesus, Eddie!” 

“That’s what she said!” Bev cried. Richie had felt audible pain that he didn’t catch that one first. 

Eddie’s other contacts beyond grey names and numbers from work acquaintances were ‘evil stepsister from hell’, ‘evil step brother from hell’, ‘the only passable human’ (Patty), and ‘Richie’, merely because he knew the lack of a proper jab would piss Richie off endlessly. 

“I’m honored to know that I’m already missed,” Mike answered over the phone. Eddie smiled. Calling Mike had been a good idea, regardless of how he half-assed getting there. “How’s it going, Eddie?” 

“Stuck in traffic with these dipshits who don’t know how merge lanes and exits work. Morons. You?” 

“Ah, could be worse. I almost got hit about a mile ago. People drive scary around here but not as scary as in Maine.”

“Don’t even mention the Maine drivers. I swear to god, I’m never putting myself through that again. Not a chance. I literally saw some guy pass this old woman ahead of me by swerving out into oncoming traffic. Who the fuck does that? There are lines! On the tar! They aren’t kind suggestions, they’re the fucking law!” Mike’s hearty laugh filtered through the speakers. Eddie knew people found his rants amusing but never paid it much thought. Regardless, it was nice hearing Mike’s appraisal.

*******

When Eddie had parked and circled the large stairway of his apartment building’s garage, he was met with Richie sitting at the base of the steps, earbuds in with a YouTube video playing on his phone. His backpack was tossed a little haphazardly to his left, slouched over in a manner that slightly mirrored Richie’s current hunch. Eddie wasn’t quite sure how he felt about his heart jumping from seeing someone he’d been tangled up with earlier that morning. They’d literally swapped spit! Shouldn’t the jumpiness have worn off by now? 

Maybe it was background anxiety. A weird pleasant pang of background anxiety. God, he was fucked. Standing there staring at the guy wasn’t going to help. Eddie neatly placed his duffel by Richie’s backpack and sat next to him, stealing an earbud before Richie could understand what was happening. It was a video on red pandas. No catch or anything, just an educational walk through on red pandas and how they function. Eddie gave a snort. 

“What? The thumbnail was adorable,” Richie said with a soft smile. His face was a little fuzzier than usual thanks to Eddie accidentally sending his razor careening into a toilet bowl. Eddie pressed against his side and pushed down the urge to pet it. Only once the moment had passed did he remember that technically, running his hand along Richie’s face wasn’t a big deal. They were together. Together people could just reach out and poke at each other without having to fight for justification (figuratively and literally). 

Eddie rubbed at his arms, annoyed that he’d never grown the fucking wool coat Richie had acquired in adulthood. Even as Richie was wearing the same clothes, jeans and a graphic that unlike Eddie’s read ‘Not My Nose’ for some reason, the hairy jackass was fine. There was still a spring chill in the air, not to mention the parking garage was dark with bright white LED strips that never quite met the far corners of the grey walls. Eddie didn’t feel like it was as uncomfortable as it probably should’ve been. He felt content to sit on what he would normally fear was a dirty step, listening to a Morgan Freeman wannabe list off the various ways red pandas forage for food. Clearly, Richie caving and wrapping a hand around his waist might have had something to do with it. 

They sat there in relative peace until the credits rolled. Richie clicked his phone off and pressed a quick kiss to Eddie’s cheek, rushed like he’d been trying to play it off, before standing and grabbing their bags. 

“Nope! No! Fuck you. That bag is mine,” Eddie said with a scowl, jumping to his feet to grab for it. Richie snickered and lifted it out of Eddie’s reach before attempting to bolt up the stairs. Knowing Richie’s knees weren’t the best, Eddie shoved down his need to win and yelled, “Fine, you child! Carry it! Dick!” Suddenly, Richie stopped and spun on his heel in the middle of the steps. 

“Hold on. You didn’t pack the entirety of your wardrobe for our little getaway. What gives?” Eddie started up the steps with a background goal in mind.

“We were sleeping in the same room, Rich. How are you just now realizing this?” Richie didn’t notice Eddie reach out to snatch his duffel back. 

“It's not- Hey! That’s cheating, you little shit!” Eddie flashed him a devious grin but otherwise didn’t acknowledge his own sleight of hand. 

“Besides, I can pack for four days. You know how weird it was going back to Derry! How the fuck should I know what to bring?” He wasn’t entirely lying but… leaving his wife had a lot more to do with it. 90% of the shit in those bags were things he didn’t want Myra to hold as ransom when he finally got the courage to nut up and make a call. Richie didn’t press at least. Through the door at the top of the steps, they found themselves in a ginormous lobby. It was fancy as hell. Rather than let Richie ogle it, Eddie yanked him towards the next stairway up. He was trying to avoid the elevator line. 

“Wow, the rent on this place has gotta be astronomical! I can’t wait to see the pressurized quarantine zone we’re going to enter. Should I have brought my own hazmat? Some clorox wipes as a peace offering?” 

“That doesn’t even make any sense, you fucking nerd. Why would you need a hazmat in a quarantine zone,” Eddie replied, smiling profusely. Richie had a tendency to mix up his jokes when he was genuinely excited about something. Eddie didn’t know why his apartment fit the bill, especially considering that everything about himself screamed ‘I have a model home with no character whatsoever’, but it was still a nice sentiment. 

“I don’t know the extent of your safety measures! There could be one of those disinfectant shower things right in the doorway. Maybe some lasers to laser away the germs.” Eddie gave him a playful shove. 

“Shut up, you. They don’t even have those for apartments.” 

“So you’ve thought about it. An inquiry was made.” 

“Wh- No! I’m using common sense!”

“Are you though, because you sounded pretty certain…” 

“Don’t even. Don’t you fucking even. I haven’t- Why would I even do that?! I’ve lived here for less than a year and have had exactly one person over! That wouldn’t make any fucking sense!” 

“Oh, so it’s logical to wait until you’re settled in here before spending the money and time on a decontaminator thingy-”

“Antiviral walk through gate and that is not what I’m saying, you belligerent asshat. I don’t plan on staying here but even if I did, that’s- I’m not installing some futuristic shit in my doorway! I’ve gotten better than that!” Richie had an expression that screamed pride, contradictory to his snark. Eddie felt his ears burn and focused on checking what floor they were on. Fourth. They had a ways to go. 

“Uh huh. So you’re saying you let some random New Yorker in your apartment without a full scale decontamination?” 

“Oh, fuck off! It was Bev!  _ Bev _ ! And even if it was some random guy-”

“A lot of ‘ifs’ here Spaggheds-” 

“I wouldn’t douse them in cleaner like a psychopath! I’m not- Shit. What’s the name of that guy? Who- he melted a bunch of other guys? Wasn’t he British?” Eddie glanced to Richie knowing he’d have some weird fact stashed away in his brain over something that random. 

“Wait… The acid bath murders?” Richie replied. “His name was John I think.” Eddie wrinkled his nose.

“Why the fuck would a serial killer be named John?” 

“Well, Bundy’s name was ‘Ted’! Serial killers' names aren’t exactly creative!” Richie stopped a moment to suspire, leaning against the stairwell’s railing. “Please tell me we are within the five floor range. Please. I’m going to fucking die here.” Eddie stopped at the top of that particular section and looked back at his cohort, trying not to seem as enamored as he felt. He failed, clearly, as Richie’s million-kilowatt smile grew and lit up the space like a lightbulb. 

“New York City has stairs and I clearly mentioned having an apartment so you signed up for this. And yeah, we’re three floors off. Finally.” With a few seconds of hesitation, a quick flash of about 90% of his life experiences so far striking a pang of fear in his heart at the idea, Eddie stuck out a hand. Richie took it and Eddie helped haul him up the other three sets of stairs. 

As he opened the door of his NYC apartment with Richie in toe, Eddie had… mixed emotions. On one hand, the love of his life was practically squished against him because the longer Eddie’s key wouldn’t go in the lock, the closer Richie got just to amp him up and harass him about poor key handling. On the other hand, however, his apartment was still the dreary same as always. It was an HGTV dream with white walls, a fancy sofa, a nice kitchen- Basically that which a well off white guy in New York City would be expected to own. Eddie kind of hated it. It felt too impersonal for where he’d been spending his first adult years free from any controlling presence. For that same reason, however, the lack of personality was no surprise. 

Richie whistled, surveying the area. 

“You sure you ain’t got acid vats in here, sir. Mind if we check the back room?” Richie asked in a Southern detective’s drawl. In fact, it sounded eerily similar to the detective from Knives Out. Eddie pursed his lips but otherwise, ignored the comment (and completely missed what Richie was  _ actually _ suggesting, the sly bastard). Sure, the thought crossed his mind to threaten throwing Richie in an acid vat but he knew the retort would send them on a tirade about serial killers, an extremely slippery slope into Bowers’ territory. 

“The bedroom’s this way.” Eddie tugged Richie by the wrist down the hall. His only goal was to drop bags but Richie got another idea entirely. The grin was evident.

“Yeesh! Buy me a drink first! I just got here!” Eddie raised a middle finger and tried to ignore his ribcage doing that thing that made him think he was having a heart attack back in the 90s. 

Once again, the room was  _ extremely _ basic. The dark wood furniture stood out nicely, as did the navy blue design on the bedsheets, but besides those small details, the room was practically barren. It was almost a hotel room. Richie wasted no time in shouldering his bag into the corner and launching onto the bed like an excited teenager. Eddie shook his head. The man was insufferable. 

“Eddie,” Richie said, voice muffled by having sunk into the comforter. Eddie smiled softly and leaned against the doorframe. “You sleep on a literal cloud. What the fuck?” 

“Back issues, idiot. Not everyone has a top notch spine.” Internally, he cringed a little at bringing that up. It was a sensitive topic that Richie avoided for the most part. Eddie wasn’t so tactful. 

“How thick is this blanket, dude? Holy shit.” Richie pushed up onto his elbows to thumb at the material. Eddie had gotten the really fluffy one. He was also getting a full view of Richie’s ass in this weird plank position so he thanked the fluffy blanket gods for that one. All too soon, Richie flipped over and scooted to the edge of the bed, hands out in a grabby fashion. “C’mere.” Eddie wanted to feign being put out but he was smiling too hard as he joined Richie by the bed. 

Something he’d learned about Richie over the past week or so was that the man was a complete push over. Not that Eddie didn’t know that before, but the way he could thread his hand through Richie’s hair, tugging back in the slightest, and completely govern how they continued from there was a rush Eddie didn’t previously think he even wanted. He was quick to appreciate the angle he had there, kissing Richie hard from his higher vantage point. Richie gave a muffled sound as Eddie licked into his mouth, pressing their bodies together along the edge of the bed. Richie’s legs curled around Eddie’s knees, drawing up into that crossed manner Eddie thought only happened in movies. It was almost surreal for this to be happening and yet, here they were. They were together. They were alive. Three decades and an evil space clown but still kicking. Eddie pulled one hand from Richie’s hair to run it along the broad shoulders in front of him, revelling in the sheer width. 

Part of Eddie was adamant that he see his counselor at least once to discuss his hang ups before trying something drastic. That part was very quickly silenced by Richie’s hand groping at the back of his damn thigh again. Eddie didn’t know what it was with his legs that had Richie so fascinated but he definitely wasn’t complaining. Instead, an unplanned whine escaped his throat and he pulled away from the kiss, pressing their foreheads together as he took a breath. His pants were tight already. Fucking hell. 

“God damn it, Rich. Why do you have to be so fuckin’...” Eddie gave a frustrated puff of air. Richie raised an eyebrow at him and pushed his glasses up a little. Eddie did like his eyebrows when they did that. He just thought they were neat. 

“Fuckin’ what?” Eddie leaned back to place his hands along Richie’s jaw, considering all the unique little details of his face. Eddie also really liked to brush his thumb along Richie’s beard/stubble thing that had grown a little softer with length. 

“I don’t- You…” Eddie frowned. He couldn’t quite piece together what he wanted to say. Richie’s expression faltered a little. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I can’t even remember the last time I was genuinely attracted to someone before you showed up. Cut me a little slack here.” Richie seemed happy enough with that much if his smile was anything to go by, but Eddie wasn’t. 

“You know for somebody who talks more than a talk show host on speed-” Eddie resolved to kiss him a little harder than necessary instead of telling him to shut up. He expected a little push back but the surprise elicited a pleased choking sound from Richie’s chest as his mouth fell open like a closed door that’s handle didn’t work but hinges sure did. Eddie grinned against his mouth.  _ Gotcha, Rich. Not laughing now, huh? _

Richie grabbed at Eddie’s hips, his thumbs pressing into the divots between Eddie’s pelvis and lower abdomen. Eddie was not laughing now either. That spot was apparently a turn on that he had  _ not _ been expecting. It had to have been obvious as Richie blew out an amused breathy giggle. Eddie almost felt a pang of sympathy annoyance for any neighbors with ears. It was 1 in the afternoon and between Eddie’s lack of restraint and Richie being  _ loud _ on a good day, they were going to get an earful. 

They hadn’t expounded upon Richie’s past experiences or Eddie’s lack thereof since that first night, yet what they lacked in verbal confirmation, they made up for in physical. Richie’s stop and go nature hadn’t changed, something Eddie suspected was due to previous one night stands, but Eddie calling the shots often made him relax and do what he felt like instead of what he thought he should do. Part of Eddie wondered if under the time constraints of having a one off with a stranger, his previous boyfriends or whatever the fuck (Eddie hated dwelling on that one because, yeah, he had a jealousy sreak a mile wide) would just assume that the bigger person would take charge of the situation. 6’1 with shoulders like those… it was more than plausible. Richie probably learned a pattern and followed it when he obviously responded far better to Eddie pinning him down rather than vice versa. 

As for Eddie, he wasn’t necessarily unlearning anything so much as learning it for the first time right alongside Richie. On the first night, he’d let his hands go wherever the fuck they felt like going. When they’d held Richie to the bed by his wrists, who was Eddie to complain? Richie wasn’t. And when Richie bit down on the middle of his shoulder, Eddie discovered real fast why that should be off limits for the time being. 

This time though, he  _ wanted _ Richie to bite down there. Just like he  _ wanted _ Richie to keep pressing down on the spot that nearly knocked the breath right out of his chest for no reason besides his body deciding for him ‘yeah, right there please.’ 

Eddie bit at Richie’s lip snaking a hand down to his chest to push him against the bed. Did Eddie’s hand leave that spot? Not a chance. Richie’s oddly thick tits were a thing for Eddie and by god was he gonna go at them. He'd have his mouth there if it weren’t for Richie’s shirt in the way. 

The lacking friction was thoroughly killing him, even more so as he moved to straddle Richie on the bed. 

“Still need that drink first?” Eddie mumbled close to Richie’s ear. Richie grabbed at one of Eddie’s thighs, his fingers curling into the inner muscle and sending a jolt to Eddie’s cock. Richie’s jeans did not look comfortable at the moment either. 

“Fuck, Eds. Why are you so good at this?” he practically wheezed. Eddie bit at his ear. 

“No clue. Answer?” 

“I’m all yours, buddy.” Eddie couldn’t help but laugh. “What, I’m being serious!” Never one for articulating, Eddie replied by finding that one sweet spot that really set Richie off. Richie’s hips bucked up and that tight grip of his somehow pressed even further into Eddie’s thigh and hip, blunt nails digging in. That was another pleasant discovery. Richie’s grip stung and Eddie liked it. 

While part of him was still completely uneducated as to how this would work, another part of Eddie was almost masochistically shouting to knock out the one major point of trauma he had sexually in one go. 

‘ _ I’ll do it for a dime _ .’ Terrifying but Richie had always made him feel a little braver and the idea of the sheer sounds Eddie would get to hear made the deal almost too perfect to pass up.  _ Try not to have a fucking panic attack and we’re golden _ . 

The decision was made. Now all Eddie had to worry about was implementation. Richie would have to move closer to the edge of the bed but that wouldn’t be a hard move knowing Richie still needed his pants off for this (or at least that’s how Eddie would prefer because he’d seen those hairy thighs and Richie’s sheepishness about them needed to  _ perish _ ). Eddie would also be taking a gamble that his knee to back interaction wouldn’t end poorly because he needed as much focus as he could get here. 

It was times like these that Eddie wished he wasn’t so much of a planner but hey, he was going to make this happen properly. No half-assing this one. 

“Can I blow you?” Now, contrary to the entirety of Eddie’s train of thought for the past three agonizing drags of his body against Richie’s, it was  _ Richie _ who’d said that and not Eddie. Objectively, this was far more terrifying than Eddie doing it but hey, he was going for the full scale fear denial. Why not let Richie?

“Fuck. Um- Yeah?” Richie grinned almost wolfishly beneath him and Eddie’s chest got a little tighter. Richie had a tendency to show a few too many teeth sometimes but this was the only time it had ever bugged out Eddie as much as it bugged out most people. Then Eddie realized it still wasn’t freaking him out, that was just the PTSD talking. I mean, look at those eyes, they were fucking sparkling!

Okay, yeah, he really needed Richie in the loop on this one. 

“I- Uh- There’s a hang up here,” Eddie said quickly. Richie paused a moment, grip loosening an annoying amount considering that Eddie really wanted to be manhandled back right about now. He wanted Richie to push and shove like always. “IT stuff. I’m saying that because if I freak out, it’s not your fault or anything.” Okay, now Eddie was scared he’d derailed the whole venture entirely. 

“You… Do you still want me to-” 

“Yes. Badly,” Eddie interjected. He also noticed that he had his hands balled up in Richie’s shirt which did not help his self esteem in the issue whatsoever. Richie was trying very hard not to laugh, ultimately breaking Eddie’s own resolve to keep the situation at least somewhat serious. They both wound up losing their shit. Luckily, Eddie always felt that Richie’s laugh was a beautiful sound and lost track of his fears in the first place. 

Eddie kept him laid back on the bed for a few more moments, savoring the chance to leave a few marks on Richie’s neck. They had the time, after all. When his breath coasted behind Richie’s ear and Richie dragged their hips together himself, Eddie finally sat up so they could get this show on the road. He’d expected them to switch positions or something but was pleasantly surprised when Richie pulled him forwards by his knees, meaning Eddie was situated straddling Richie’s chest instead of his hips. 

A thought crossed his mind regarding Richie’s pecks that… another day. If that would even be fucking possible. Future Eddie was definitely going to die of embarrassment over that one. 

“Shit, feel free to do that again but my pants are still on right now, Rich,” Eddie laughed. Richie gave a childish grumble that was cut short by Eddie taking his shirt off. Both froze. 

Eddie was surprised by himself too honestly. Not one day since Neibolt had he looked in the mirror and felt any kind of confidence. Technically, he never had thanks to years of health and body-related issues, but the massive scar made his reflection genuinely unbearable some days. The one on his face, he regarded with pride. He’d stabbed Bowers back. He was a fucking  _ boss _ that day. The scar from his sternum to his abs just left him feeling like a voodoo doll, pinned so much that he tore apart and had to be stitched together again. 

Eddie had also been straddling Richie when he’d been impaled, so he wasn’t the only one a little off put by the mirror image and reminder. Instinctively, Eddie covered his scar with his balled up T-Shirt, eyes wide at Richie. 

“Sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t even think about that. I was- you know, it’s never been a thing before now that mattered or whatever and-” Richie left his stare to catch Eddie’s gaze again, slowly and softly pulling the shirt back down to the bed as he spoke genuinely. 

“Hey, no, don’t apologize. You made it, man. That’s what matters.” Eddie took a deep breath as Richie’s hand trailed down the pale, addled skin. The nerve endings weren’t all there but what he did feel made his heart pound. Eddie knew he should keep still and give Richie a chance to process it’s gnarly state, but the overwhelming love poured into the action and featherlight touch trailing downwards that he’d only ever felt from himself was not making it easy. Somewhere near his navel, Eddie couldn’t take the pressure from his cock and pressed a palm to it, trying to be inconspicuous but also not capable of advising himself against it. Honestly, he wasn’t going to last long between the unexpected position Richie had chosen and the way he was already so far aroused from the rutting and fact that this was Richie fucking Tozier under him, caressing his least favorite feature with love and tenderness Eddie had never experienced literally ever. 

He tried watching the ceiling but that nearly made it worse as the feeling was all he had to go off of.

“I love you but we have got to do something, I swear to god,” Eddie finally said, nearly out of desperation. Peeking down a Richie he was met with a shit eating grin. “You- You’re doing that on fucking purpose, aren’t you? You fucking douchebag!” Richie gave a deep giggle, adding a vibrating sensation beneath Eddie’s balls that was unforgivable. Emboldened by Richie being an asshat, Eddie reached behind himself and landed dead on target, curving his hand under Richie’s erection and dragging it up his jeans. Richie hissed and rolled his hips up to thin air because Eddie was sitting around his chest. Eddie then reversed the motion downwards and the result was music to his ears. Richie tugged at Eddie’s pants and tried to force himself back onto the bed, head tilted back. Eddie internally noted that he’d probably need a pillow. 

“Point taken! Payback acquired!” Richie yelled. Eddie laughed and got an idea, once again a little too headstrong to stop himself. Before he could think better of it, he slipped his middle and forefinger into Richie’s mouth, hooking his forefinger behind Richie’s teeth to gently pull him forward long enough to yank a pillow from the end of the bed and deposit it behind his neck. Before Eddie could pull them back, Richie’s tongue swirled around them, sucking them down. Eddie paused with a small, “Guh.” If that was what he was about to do to Eddie’s dick, the man was 100% going to die right then and there. 

The slick heat around Eddie's fingers and intensity of Richie’s eyes as the spit trailed down his chin… 

Eddie was completely transfixed by the display. 

“I- Hold on,” Eddie mumbled, pulling back for a moment. Grabbing down by Richie’s sides, he pulled at Richie’s T-Shirt with disgruntled insistence and two slick fingers that made it way harder to undo buttons as it should’ve been. Richie’s eyebrows raised, so Eddie, still wacked out enough to lose the block in his throat, gladly filled him in on why. “Your chest, man. This is coming off right the fuck now.” Richie pushed up on his elbows so Eddie could get the damn thing to move. His grin was equally devastating and ominous as he obviously had a joke primed but wasn’t saying it. Eddie rolled his eyes. “Go ahead.” Richie lifted his arms just in time but his glasses weren’t so lucky when Eddie yanked the shirt off and tossed it aside. 

“That won’t be the only thing coming off,” Richie replied cheekily. Between that and the skewed glasses… Eddie sat back with his nose scrunched up in distaste, but contrary to his expression, he pawed at Richie’s chest and ran his fingers through the hair reverently. 

“If you didn’t insist on the dumbest possible position, I would’ve kissed you for that,” Eddie said. The implication was laid bare and Richie looked like he’d just been handed the world. Eddie took that buffering pause to properly shuck his jeans in an admittedly embarrassing fashion. With those tossed aside it was only his underwear left. He hadn’t removed them because- well- that was a big move. He took Richie’s hands and placed them at the hem. Something about Richie’s mannerism said this was the way to go. “Come on, Rich. It was always gonna be you eventually.” Richie pushed his head back and looked up at the ceiling. 

“Eds, you can’t just say that or I’m gonna cry. During sex. And it’ll be your fault.” Eddie probably should've replied something nice but another false start and he might actually lose his shit. He scowled. 

“I’m fucking fine with that, dickhead, but I’m near use it or lose it territory here.” Richie got the gist  _ finally _ and pulled Eddie’s boxers down, Eddie’s dick entering surprisingly cold air. The chill wasn’t bad with their general body temperatures at the moment but it was notable. Eddie couldn’t actually recall what acrobatic stunt he used to send his boxers across the room as hands roamed up Eddie’s thighs to the divots that really fucked with him. Knowing what was about to happen still didn’t help prepare him for the wave of heat that hit his body when Richie had gotten his mouth around Eddie’s dick. 

It was rolling and all encompassing. At some point his knees felt a little shaky but Richie’s hand had him held in place with ease.

Honestly, Eddie couldn’t quite pinpoint what was even happening. Richie’s thumbs digging into that hip area to prevent Eddie from bucking forward was already a lot to handle, let alone the movement along Eddie’s dick or the way Richie leaned to mouth at his balls. Eddie tried gripping at the sheets but wound up with his hands in Richie’s hair as pleasure tore through him, the vibration of Richie moaning adding to the near unbearable sensation. Eddie made the mistake of looking down and nearly came on the spot, Richie meeting his eyes and purposefully taking a harder drag. Eddie was a livewire, fingers and toes curled almost painfully and absolute fucking nonsense spilling from his mouth that he couldn’t even keep track of. At some point, Richie had a hand slipping back to grope at his ass and Eddie almost couldn’t get a warning out. 

Maybe he didn’t. Who the fuck knows. He tried at least? 

Eddie’s world whited out. A wave of heat hit him and he finally released, the tension and fight he’d put up dissipating thanks to Richie’s insistence. Eddie had honestly never come that hard in his life, as proven by how addled his thoughts were in post. The way Richie had looked at him stuck there like a snapshot in Eddie’s mind and Eddie was never getting rid of it as long as he lived - not for anything. 

That had to have been a minute tops. In Eddie’s opinion, he deserved a medal for even hanging on for that long. 

It took him a great deal of refocusing to open his eyes so soon after  _ that _ but he cared too much about Richie to ride it out with no clue of how his man was fairing. Richie was looking pleased but slightly frantic. Eddie’s brain wasn’t exactly online yet, nor were his legs, but he could at least convey an understanding of the situation by reaching behind and palming at Richie’s likely aching cock, getting an eager groan in return. Eddie noticed the white in his mouth. Did he swallow that? Damn. Why the fuck was that hot?

Eddie was shaky but luckily, still the same guy who did push ups on a regular basis for a morning routine. He pulled himself back to where he could properly get at Richie’s pants but couldn’t quite coordinate the zipper. Richie sat up to undo it, breathing hard and fast with their foreheads together. Eddie laced a hand behind Richie’s neck and kissed him, open and languid, until Eddie could finally get his hands around him and jack him off for real. 

*******

Eddie was a clean freak. This was a fundamental trait engrained at the core of his being thanks to more trauma than most people could endure without winding up in a mental facility. Hell, at one point he probably could’ve used a mental facility if the people around him would’ve just let him  _ go _ . He’d feared so much and experienced so little in his life that Eddie wasn’t even sure if going on was worth it back in the old days. He was surprised IT hadn’t taunted him with that. 

Instead, Eddie was faced with something much more damning to his future health. It was a lasting laceration across his core saying that he couldn’t truly find happiness in the arms of someone he loved. IT forced him into the mindset that he was sick, regardless of his physical health, and bolstered by the insistence of his mother. Loving another man was what made him sick. That was the message. 

After decades of mental hoops to jump through and vicious cycles, Eddie ripped that message to shreds. No- Scratch that,  _ Richie  _ ripped that message to shreds. Richie with his wide grin and slightly nasally voice, poking at Eddie in all the right spots. Richie who got him back on track when the voices no one else could hear got too loud and Eddie swung too far out for anyone else to reach. That man broke nearly everything Sonia and IT had taught Eddie, shattering it to pieces and convincing him that all the cracks and holes in him were only the result of what had been done  _ to him _ , not how he was built. Maybe one day, anyone could have, but this impossible task was taken up by Richie and Richie alone. 

That day, it was the cleanfreak who denied immediately running for a shower. That day it was Eddie who pulled Richie closer and revelled in the fact that no, they weren’t sick. Sonia and Myra and IT were wrong. It was just Richie and Eddie laying there, as it always should’ve been since the start. 

*******

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Eddie grumbled. After he’d regained the ability to think in full sentences, Eddie had, eventually, relented on the shower. He’d spent the following five minutes as they got the shower water to heat up, absolutely losing his shit over the size of Richie’s dick. No man with the shitty humor of a twelve year old deserved a penis worth bragging about and yet, there they were, Eddie expressing genuine annoyance as Richie laughed, arms draped casually over Eddie’s shoulders as his dick hung heavy right where Eddie could yell at it. 

Part of Eddie wished he hadn’t had his brains too fucked out to properly enjoy having his hands around Richie’s cock for the first time but hey, they had plenty of time to get to that. Judging by the way Eddie still almost got half hard when Richie pressed up against him, Eddie had a sneaking suspicion multiple rounds might actually be possible one day when everything wasn’t so new. The thought was exciting, knowing that against basically any of the odds here, his age hadn’t caught up with him entirely yet. 

His real concern came once they were in the shower, however. It was a huge step of trust for both of them. At the quarry, Eddie looked like a drenched rat and Richie’s hair… did it’s thing. But even then, Eddie was fine with the whole scenario. The real issue?

Richie’s fucking torso blocked  _ any  _ water from hitting Eddie, not to mention his head was taller that the fucking nozzle. Richie struggled very hard to keep a straight face as Eddie glared at him, both of their heads completely dry due to the absurd scenario. 

“It is not my fault you have a toddler-sized shower,” he said, voice wavering as he tried to keep it together. 

“No! You know what? This proves my fucking point! I am an average height and you are the giant here and nobody believed me, yet here we are,” Eddie ranted. Richie broke and laughed as Eddie continued. “Not once has the shower head bothered me. Not  _ once _ . It’s the perfect height for any normal sized human and now I’ve gotta take the front and you’re just gonna have to lean because your gorgeous goddamn shoulders are a literal menace blocking all the water.” Richie’s face flushed at the angry compliment because they weren’t the kind of people to show open affection but he didn’t bug Eddie for it, probably in the hopes he would hear something along those lines again. Eddie stepped aside and grabbed Richie by the hips, pushing him to the other side of the shower. He hadn’t braced himself for the freezing cold jets of water hitting him in the face because as a 5 '9 (5’8) human, they  _ could do that _ . He yelped and plastered himself against the tile wall. 

“Why is that so fucking cold?!” Richie had to brace himself on the wall so as not to fall over from laughing to hard. He also had to cover his junk from the ice rays he’d endured. Eddie growled and yanked the water handle to where he always aimed it, right at the perfect near-scalding temperature he preferred. He knew Richie didn’t like it that hot but he was also bitter and waterlogged. And it would take ages for the shower to heat up. This was a fiasco. “Was that worth freezing your ass, Rich? Huh? Because now we have to wait for it to fucking warm up again!” Richie’s near breathless amusement implied that yes, it very much was worth it. 

Eddie scowled and decided his best option to stop shivering was to cling on to Richie, the eternal heater. 

After a brief, peaceful moment with the water steadily warming and being pressed up against Richie as it did, Richie just  _ had _ to murmur quietly in Eddie’s ear. 

“Our dicks are touching.” 

Eddie was going to kill him. 


	7. Homeland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I realize I've spelled Kaspbrak wrong thus far. No, I am not editing 24,000 already posted words to fix this :)

After having driven all day, then immediately fucked, Eddie still had to help Richie unpack his stuff and settle in. There had been an unspoken agreement that this little foray’s time limit only came when either Eddie gave the final confirmation that he was moving to LA where Richie was situated or Richie decided to move his shit cross country into this admittedly small apartment. There may have been another alternative but they were so obviously in love with one another for so many years that it wasn’t even considered. 

Plus, Eddie was banking on the first one; he only had a job to deal with first. They were going to be here for two weeks at least. 

“Ramen,” Eddie said resolutely as Richie dropped his now empty backpack in the corner. Eddie hadn’t assisted the unpacking, instead crossing his legs on the bed and nitpicking as Richie did, occasionally pointing out where he kept certain items in the dresser. Richie clearly preferred the banter to a second set of hands. “I know a place not far from here. Five minute walk, tops.” Richie dramatically fell to the bed, throwing his arms and legs out in faux exhaustion. 

“Jesus. No wonder you’ve got the build of a miniature Hemsworth. I forgot how much of a bitch taxis could be around here.” Eddie chuckled and fell back on the bed next to him. He conveniently landed where Richie’s arm was haphazardly splayed to form a makeshift pillow as he not-so-subtly nudged himself against Richie’s side. Okay so maybe it wasn’t convenient and they’d both aimed. Who's to judge? 

“You have no room to talk, Sized-Up-Danny-Devito.” The crack caught Richie by surprise as he sputtered, curling in on himself as he giggled. Eddie beamed. He had a nice vantage point from there, tucked under Richie’s arm as it curled around him. He took a bit of a flying leap by their standards and reached his own out to properly wrap around Richie’s chest. Under no circumstances would he consider this cuddling. Eddie Kaspbrak did not  _ cuddle _ . Then again, Richie was warm and their legs were tangled and the angle Eddie had of Richie’s soft smile after having laughed was… 

Eddie didn’t want to get up. The thought would’ve frozen Eddie in his tracks if not for the fingers that came to card through his hair, helping him through that realization. The man who normally bustled about his day with borderline worrisome purpose was ready to ignore the fact that he was very clearly hungry just to take a few extra moments here. He was willing to dash a strictly choreographed regiment in favor of fiddling with the button of Richie’s admittedly horrendous patterned shirt. Even with the constant health related lecture in his brain continuing, one he’d heard since before he could even remember and would never cease the incessant nagging, he was fine to lay here. He was happy with this. 

That thought was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. 

“I love you.” Eddie didn’t really think too hard before saying it. That was all he could articulate about what had just gone through his head. Richie was still grinning ear to ear as he shifted to press a kiss to Eddie’s hairline. Eddie didn’t know what to do with the small bits of physical affection Richie peppered in so often nowadays but he loved it all the same. It was new and powerful and he loved it.

“Right back atcha, Eds.” Almost immediately after he said that, his stomach growled, sending them both into another laughing fit. “Ah, but I do not love you enough to vore you.” Eddie’s nose scrunched up in confusion (and partially because he disliked that they were getting up). 

“What the fuck is vore?” Richie snorted but shook his head, snatching his jacket from the door where he’d hung it. 

“Google it. I don’t want a shoe to the head this fine evening.” Before Eddie could reach his phone, Richie had snatched it and held it out of his reach. Jokes on him though as the bed was right there. In a quick one-two, Eddie stepped up and launched off of the bed. He definitely could’ve grabbed the phone and went about finding his shoes and socks like any adult but instead, he decided to koala onto Richie’s back, nearly taking him down. “Fuck! Eddie, you little fucking-!” Eddie merely pulled his phone from Richie’s hand and, after only a moment’s hesitation debating whether or not a grown man should even consider it, bit Richie’s ear before dropping back to the ground. It was the urge to do random shit like that Eddie had spent years ignoring, so why not now? 

“You’re such a gremlin, holy god,” Richie muttered under his breath, rubbing at his ear. His face was also a little flushed. Eddie grinned at him and pulled a comfortable grey sweater from the nearby walk-in closet. That with his black T-Shirt and washed out jeans completed the range of his wardrobe post-Bev chewing him out for the polos and pre-Bev dragging him out shopping. It was nice to get rid of them though. He liked looking a little less uptight for once, even if he hadn’t changed demeanor-wise. “Wait, you said ramen, right? Have you actually been eating non-rabbit food when none of us are around?” Eddie grabbed a pair of socks and lobbed them at Richie’s head. They were caught and Richie proceeded to put them on, regardless of Eddie’s original intention. 

“Fuck you. And yes, I have.” 

“Fucked me or tried options beyond white person from Maine with no taste buds?” 

“Yes.” 

After clicking his phone open, Eddie paused in the bedroom doorway. He remembered texting Richie in the back of Bev’s Jeep about what he still had left to say. He didn’t get a chance to mention that before Richie poked at his side to get him to move, right in the spot that made him squeak as a kid. The thought flew out of Eddie’s head faster than light as he spun and slapped Richie’s hand with a rush of indignation before storming for the entryway. 

“Asshat,” he grumbled. Richie put on a shitty Spanish voice. 

“¿Cómo podría mi nuevo amor llamarme algo tan horrible?” 

“You know I got a C in that class, and yet…” Eddie replied, waving his hand. “Wait, shit, I have to google vore.” Richie wheezed. 

“Oh god, what have I done? I’m blaming Pete for this.” 

“Pete?” Eddie asked, trying to sound distracted but still sounding pointed. He typed as Richie grabbed their shoes, brimming with a subtle satisfaction. 

“Of the Davidson variety. I guest hosted SNL to promo my last tour. Kid’s got game but I did  _ not _ need to learn half of the new shit that’s hit the comedy scene recently. I’m happy with my ratty old dick jokes, thank you very much.” Eddie shrugged. 

“Eh, could be an improvement.” When google finally loaded, Eddie threw his phone at Richie like a baseball, bouncing off of his chest and clattering to the ground. “Richie, you shithead!” Richie cackled and tossed Eddie his sneakers with far less aggression. 

“An improvement, huh? Should I work voring you into my next act?” 

“I will fucking murder you if you even think about it, I swear to god.” 

“Wait, you- Why is this an Android? No wonder our text chain was green!” Richie cried, glaring at Eddie’s phone on the ground. He’d crossed his ankles and leaned against the sofa with his hands in his pockets, staring at it. Eddie noted that the nonchalant posing was, admittedly, kind of attractive. And that he should get Richie a leather jacket to make up for the one he’d wrecked mid-bleeding to death. Definitely not for horny purposes. 

“I’m not paying to boost Apple’s ego! I wanted a reliable phone!”

“How the fuck did you, Mr. Risk Analyst, buy a phone from a company that caused literal fiery  _ explosions _ ?!” Richie was genuinely outraged. 

“I’d already bought it by then, not to mention the statistical risk of that happening to this model is zero! Just because the news hyped it up doesn’t mean jackshit in the face of the extra $200 for your fucking Apple version!” 

“You have a 2 bedroom apartment in New York City! $200 is clearly nothing in comparison to your paycheck!” 

“Or I know how to not buy stupid shit so I can afford the damn place!” 

“We both know that is so not true, man! Money is nothing but an excuse for this fucking- oh no.” Richie squinted down at it. Eddie frowned. “You haven’t, by any chance, broken a glass in this vicinity recently, have you?” Eddie could’ve literally punched something. 

“It’s broken isn’t it?” he asked flatly. Richie cringed and nodded. 

“But ya know, if you need a new one…” 

“Whichever phone place or whatever the fuck we run into on the way will decide,” Eddie grumbled, crouching down to poke at it. It really was horrendously shattered. 

“And all over googling vore.” Eddie did, in fact, punch him. Lightly in the calf because believe it or not, by this point, he was far more entertained than angry. 

With Eddie’s phone in a bag in Richie’s back pocket, (“If you sit on that and your ass starts bleeding, I will laugh.”) they descended to the lobby in the elevator, only joined by an old muslim woman and her rambunctious grandchild who was fascinated by the blinky lights of the floor counter changing. Eddie pressed against Richie instead of the elevator wall, partially because  _ ew _ and partially because he felt like it. Richie leaned down and nodded to the floor counter. 

“I wish they still had those Tower of Terror kind with the little needle,” he said in a murmur. Eddie frowned. 

“I don’t get the reference, but those were cool looking.” Richie flashed him wide eyes, then gave a resolute nod. 

“We’re going to Disney World, then. Neat.” 

“Wh- No we’re not! When did that become a thing?” Eddie whisper-yelled.

“Tower of Terror, man! That’s the reference.”

“And?” Eddie asked with audible anger. The old woman beside them gave a soft giggle at their antics. The elevator door dinged and they stepped out into the crowded lobby. 

“Dude, why are there so many people here? It's an apartment building, not a hotel.” 

“It’s 50 floors and has a constant in and out occupancy. I hate the traffic,” Eddie replied. Richie eyed an arguing couple to their left, one woman with tears streaming down her eyes and bags around her.

“Then why stay?”

“I don’t plan on it. The whole point is to convince me to fucking leave.” Richie raised his eyebrows at him. With a sigh, Eddie continued, one hand gesturing as he spoke. “I’m not… I used to like it here but now I’m sticking around because, I don’t know, normalcy? I have a job, but I’m good enough at it to move basically anywhere so that isn’t an excuse. I mean, I’ve used it to justify sticking around, but… it isn’t.” Richie nodded. Then, an action he clearly didn’t think through, he took Eddie’s hand out of the air and stuck it in his jacket pocket so they could hold hands in the cold outside. It probably looked odd to the occasional passerby but Eddie didn’t care and seemingly, neither did Richie. 

“If you want, you can come be an angry New Yorker in LA. You’ll put the hipsters off their avocado toast but that’s less disturbing the peace and more of a public service.” As they exited the apartment building, cold air immediately began to bite at Eddie’s nose. Eddie tugged them left down the slowly lighting up street and shrugged with a soft smile. 

“Yeah, I’ll give that a shot. Granted, that’s betting on you living at a cleanthliness level above ‘frat without the cleaning lady paid for by dad’.” Richie grinned. 

“Mmm, no promises there, Spagheds. Went thinks I should take more responsibility in life, lest my degree in the ‘art of motherfucking’ fall through.” Eddie knew Richie kept his place tidy from FaceTime calls, even if for no other fact than the PTSD little Eddie gave him from chewing him out for the state of his bedroom in the 90s.

“Well, I’m not staying in a motel while you learn how toilet bowl cleaner works, so you better get on that,” he replied, giving Richie a playful nudge. Richie looked back at him with a soft smile and the kind of adoration Eddie didn’t know what to do with. Eddie redirected back to the street, knowing his face probably said as much. Ben used to read him like a book, saying his eyes spoke louder than all of his words combined. 

“You’ll have to take me to your highlight list around here if I’m getting to kidnap you then,” Richie said, straightening his back to take in New York City properly as it lit up. Honestly, neither had noticed him leaning down. 

“Rich,” Eddie replied with a frown. “This is my highlight list. This is literally it. You can find all the other shit in LA or basically anywhere. I just tried Indian a month ago, it’s not like I’ve already got a favorite place.”

“Well jeez. When you’re at work or whatever, I’ll draw up a masterlist from when I used to live here. I guess I’ll be showing you  _ my _ highlight list.” Eddie snorted at the smug tone Richie had adopted. 

“Wow, the full broke comedian between gigs treatment. I’m so excited.” He gave Richie an insistent push to redirect him towards the Ramen place. It didn’t feel like they’d walked so far but then again, time did weird shit when they spoke amicably for longer than a few seconds. 

Eddie pulled Richie’s hand from his pocket but maintained holding it as the hostess greeted them. She was a petite girl with sharp eyeliner and pursed lips that said she clearly did not want to be there on such a busy Sunday night. After a shitty week and a half of trying to support himself on waiting tables, Eddie could at least understand where she was coming from. When she glanced up from the seating chart on the IPad they had plugged in there, Eddie said hello and asked for the wait time. 

“Ten minutes give or take?” Eddie thanked whatever invisible force was saving their asses this time as his plan B was shaky at best and they were both way too hungry to wait more than half an hour. “We normally text once the table’s open, so, number?” 

“64- shit. Rich, mine’s busted.” 

“I mean, it would buzz-” Eddie leveled him with a glare. “Fine, fine. 310-452-6283.” 

“That sounds like a bitch to remember,” Eddie said. 

“No kidding. I spent two years with the 452 as 453 on my resume thingy and kept wondering why I wasn’t getting any bookings.” The waitress gave a nod. 

“All set. You’ll get a text from this number-” She pointed at a colorfully written piece of paper taped to the wall behind her. “When we’re all set for you.” Richie thanked her as they wandered back out onto the street. This time something caught Richie’s eye and he grinned. Eddie followed his line of sight and growled, his annoyance bolstered by Richie’s giddy pointing. It was a goddamn Apple store. 

“I know where we’re stopping next!” 

“I hate you.” 

*******

Eddie saw it coming from a mile away. Even after having done the exact same fucking thing in the Derry Orient a year earlier. Of course it was to be expected. 

“Eddie. Eds. Eddie. Ed-orable man o’ mine. Eds.” He was trying  _ so _ goddamn hard not to smile and failing miserably. With a fake deep sigh, he looked up. Sure enough, Richie had chopstick fangs. 

“You literally could not help yourself could you?” Richie grinned ear to ear.

“What-vever could you mean?” he said with a purposefully horrible Transylvanian accent. 

“I mean you look like a vucking numbskull,” Eddie replied in an arguably worse copy that made Richie snort. Eddie also had one of Richie’s ankles locked between his own under the table so as always, it was mixed messages. Richie was content with how the bit landed so he removed the chopsticks from his face and went back to shoveling Ramen up to it. He looked slightly impressed that Eddie was pacing himself considering that the ten minute wait had turned into forty between seating and ordering. 

Once getting past the polished lobby, the place was actually quite homey. With soft orange lighting from various cultural lighting elements and the nice wooden aesthetic of most of the tables, Eddie always found himself a little more at peace here than most restaurants. Maybe it was a reminder of the Jade of Orient. While Chinese food was officially off the table, he still remembered the shocking flood of joy at seeing his friends again. Maybe that alone was enough to rescue this kind of atmosphere for him. It was a nice concept. 

Better yet, they were tucked away in a corner booth, making the world finally seem a lot smaller than it usually did. There was less to take in here than on the bustling streets outside. It was peaceful. 

“Hang on, this totally counts as our first date, right?” Richie asked. He seemed bewildered. Eddie thought for a moment with pursed lips. 

“Nah. I mean, yes, as a- like, a couple, sure. But I am one hundred percent positive that me buying you ice cream or us fucking around at the creek for hours  _ alone _ was not entirely platonic.” Eddie shrugged, more as an act of nervous energy than anything.

“God, now it seems so creepy that I used to sneak into your room all the time.”

“Yeah, well, if I wasn’t deathly afraid of having an emotion, we probably could’ve…” Eddie gestured with his hands vaguely. Richie laughed and made a much more explicit gesture that made Eddie’s ears burn. 

“If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t do it, Edfonzo-” 

“I didn’t mean fucking,  _ Richard _ , we were 13! I meant- I don’t know, actually holding hands once and a while! Or feeling like the entire world wasn’t cave in on me every time you smiled and I couldn’t think straight!” Richie muttered ‘literally’ as Eddie left his chopsticks in his bowl to properly karate chop the air as he continued. It was a habit. “I spent so much time dancing around the fact that I always wanted you around and thinking that obviously you wouldn’t want the same. It was- I was always waiting for the ball to drop and to wind up alone again! Which, thanks to the fucking clown, it did!” 

“Eds, there wasn’t a chance in hell you were getting rid of me back then,” Richie said softly with his eyebrows drawn up. 

“I know but I-”  _ -thought I was sick for wanting you in the first place. _ Yeah, that’d go down great. Eddie shook his head, looking down at the table. “I’m… It hurts to think about, Rich. Not gonna lie.” That’s when Richie reached out and took Eddie’s hand. It wasn’t necessarily easy, even in such an enclosed setting. 

“I um… I’ve got you now though. And that’s what counts.” Eddie met his eyes and nodded. 

“Yeah… You always did.” 

*******

“Blue, blue, blue, blue!”

“I swear to fucking god, I will kill you here in this store, you child of a man.” Richie winked at him, merely making the urge to commit an act of violence grow. Eddie couldn’t bring himself to pity the Apple salesman under the sheer anger anymore, even after the poor lady had spent at least ten minutes fielding Richie’s obviously made up questions about phone capabilities. 

“And if there’s a taser app, it can’t actually taze someone?” Meanwhile, Eddie had made an actual decision what model he’d prefer. Only once he’d moved on to details like color had he flagged her down, finally giving her an escape from Richie’s antics, but Richie was still in full on shithead mode. 

“Oh come on, I get that black would reflect the true color of your nonexistent soul, but the blue is so snazzy.” Noting that the saleswoman didn’t recognize Richie, hence her confusion in not knowing she was dealing with a famous comedian, Eddie took his shot. 

“Says the guy with a rose gold IPhone. Somethings you really can’t closet, can you?” Richie gasped but couldn’t contain his laughter. 

“Eds, you wound me!” With a pleased smirk, Eddie pointed to the light purple, near white one instead. 

“Plus that one was mint green you colorblind asshole. Sorry that you have to deal with him. I think I’ll go with the purple actually.” Trying very hard to contain a giggle, the woman nodded and replied that she’d be right back, starting towards the storage area of the store behind the counters. As she left, Richie shot Eddie a raised eyebrow. 

“What? Just because I gave you shit doesn’t mean I’m not picking a fun color. We’re in an Apple store, I’ve already lost.” 

“I- That is going in my act the second I get free reign. Jesus Christ.” 

“Mm, depends. I’ll demand a percentage.” 

“Yes, because that percentage going to you instead of me is obviously going to affect us beyond who pays for dinner.” Eddie beamed at the implication.

“Touche, douchebag. Touche.” When the woman returned, as did Richie’s shit eating grin. “Richie,” Eddie said with exasperation. The fact that Eddie noticed the physical shift merely brought Richie all the more joy. 

“What? I haven’t done anything too inherently stupid.” 

“Then why do I have a feeling you’re about to?” Eddie replied. The saleswoman placed the sealed IPhone box on the counter. 

“Alright, boys. Here’s the periwinkle IPhone 11.” 

“I’m sorry, perrywinkle?” Richie interjected, earning an elbow to the ribs. 

“Thanks,” Eddie replied as he narrowly dodged it. “I had an Android previously that got destroyed.”

“I made him Google v- Ow! Okay, okay! Long story short he threw it at me.” 

“Which, as you can probably tell, he deserved.” The woman covered her mouth trying to stifle a laugh and relatively failing. “Anyway, the screen got shattered and now we’re here. Do I need to start from scratch or…?” 

“Well, it depends,” she replied. “If you can still download the IOS app, you could transfer the data easily. I can help if you’d prefer. It’s not like anyone else is rolling through here tonight since we close in half an hour.” Eddie remembered trying to boot up Myra’s macbook and had a brief shiver down his spine. 

“I’d really appreciate that actually.” Without any warning whatsoever, he shoved his hand down Richie’s back pocket and pulled out the shattered Android, causing Richie to jump like a harassed waitress. Eddie would be lying if he said he hadn’t found the display amusing, as would the woman at the counter. 

“Excuse me, Edmungo, that was my ass!” 

“I’m aware,” Eddie replied flatly, finally breaking the saleswoman. She stood back and nearly had to catch her breath through the hysterical fit but Eddie continued unphased. “The screen is shattered so I think it might be dangerous to touch. Is there a stylus or something we could use?”

*******

It was dark by the time they got home, a bag hanging from Richie’s arm as his hands were squared away in his pockets. Eddie had taken a bit of a leap on the walk back to the apartment complex by hooking his own arm with Richie’s. It felt weirdly domestic but not… wrong. And it looked dorky again. If he’d ran into a coworker like that, he might’ve died. 

“Wait, wait, wait. Someone sat you down in the prime of your spazzy ass teenage years and  _ taught you piano _ ? Did they get a fucking medal of honor for this?” Eddie rolled his eyes and rummaged around in his pocket for the apartment key. 

“Oh, fuck off. Madam Janis was a fucking delight to learn from so I behaved like a goddamn angel.” 

“You are so lying right now,” Richie replied. The apartment door swung open and Eddie rammed the light switch up. Richie whistled at the ferocity, not knowing that was always how Eddie hit it. 

“Gimme my phone we bought because you  _ broke _ the last one.”

“I distinctly remember a different version of events,” Richie replied, tossing the bag to Eddie across the threshold so he could bend over and untie his shoes. Eddie impatiently toed his own off without bothering with the laces and took a seat at the counter where he could properly get at his new phone’s packaging. He’d barely gotten the bag off by the time Richie dramatically draped himself over Eddie’s shoulders. 

“Are you auditioning for the part of some old lady’s shawl in Bill’s next blockbuster? What the fuck, man?” Eddie griped. Richie giggled in Eddie’s ear, not moving. Probably because he could tell Eddie didn’t want him too. 

“Yeah. It’s a test of my range. Think I’ll get the part?” Eddie paused in thought for dramatic effect. 

“Nah. You're fuzzy enough but too heavy. Grandma Banlon’s shoulders wouldn’t be able to take it.” It was a doublesided jab at Bill’s use of them in his stories, only differentiated by a poorly disguised name or changed basic feature. The most hilarious one (and controversial since the more famous members of the Losers Club had become somewhat known on social media and the pattern was being discovered) was racebending Richie’s character to a black kid so he could use the n-word in some raunchy jokes. Richie and Mike had both nearly killed him and Richie nearly launched legal measures to give Bill an undo button.

“Aw, I guess I’ll have to settle on being  _ your _ shawl then.” Eddie didn’t mean to but he exhaled contentedly, garnering laughter on Richie’s part. 

“Dumbass,” he mumbled but the damage was already done.

“Shh, it’s time for the dramatic reveal of your purple IPhone that no one will ever let you live down. I’m so glad I got to witness that bad decision in person.”

“The only bad decision I made was letting you mess with the lady at the counter. You can be such a dick sometimes.” 

“Uh huh. Say that last part again but  _ slower _ .” Eddie laughed and shook his head. 

  
“Jesus Christ.” With no further ado, he lifted the lid of the smooth white box to reveal none other than the purple IPhone they’d set up at the store. Did he prefer Android? Yup. Was dragging Richie to a different store worth it for said Android? No. So here he sat. 

“Oh my god, you can send animojis now,” Richie said excitedly. 

“Nope. That is getting an immediate veto. You and your stupid fucking animal puns and picking the animal that pun belongs to it like that’s somehow clever can go fuck yourself.” 

“Is there an eagle animoji? Because I just realized there’s a great illegal pun sitting right there.” 

“You’re not going to be breathing by 2018 if you keep this up.”

“Eh, I’ve risked my life for less. I once spray painted a dick on my garage door because some Karen couldn’t coral her kids at 7 in the morning. She lived down the street and I was fucking done with the ‘Pass the ball, George!’s at the asscrack of dawn everyday.” 

“Impressive. That’s grumpy neighbor behavior that could even rival mine. What happened after that?” They’d literally forgotten about the phone in half a second, too engrossed in the story Richie was telling by Eddie’s ear. 

“The first day, George and his demon pals came charging up the street and literally froze in front of my yard. Crazy as it sounds, they were so sheltered, I doubt they’d ever seen a dick drawing in their lives. They were absolutely fascinated.” 

“Wow, scarring children is great.” 

“I know right? Suddenly I saw the appeal. Anyway, they start chattering amongst themselves and finally one brave trooper runs back to their house down the street. Then along comes the Karen herself. I think her name was Rhonda actually. I’d told her before that her kids should keep it down because they kept waking up Bart next to me.” 

“Bart? Who the fuck is Bart?” Richie laughed at the 0 to 60 petulant tone Eddie had taken. 

“My other neighbor, man, chill.” 

“Right. Yeah. Sorry, continue.” 

“He was this old guy who woke up at the drop of a dime, man. Absolute sweetheart too. His wife had passed a few years earlier so he couldn’t sleep well as it was.” 

“See, I knew you were being some altruistic jackass! That checks out,” Eddie said with genuine vindication. Richie groaned.

“Yeah, I have a conscience. Fuck off. Point being, I’d already told this lady and her kids to cool it with the early morning shouting matches on Bart’s front lawn so I was completely within my rights to take drastic measures. Yet this Karen comes flying up my driveway with the wrath of Satan in her eyes to yell at me, right? On my door, she finds a note saying ‘If your kids don’t wake the neighbor for three days in a row, I will repaint the garage door. Until then, suck it, lady.’ And it worked! The kids chilled their shit and played quietly from then on so I repainted the door and all was well!” 

“Your HOA probably got an earful,” Eddie said with a soft grin. 

“I actually checked in with them ahead of time and believe it or not, the counsel fuckin’ backed me because everyone loves Bart. He baked cookies for the neighborhood every Christmas and an extra batch at the end of Ramadan for the muslim family on our right.”

“That’s… fucking adorable, what the hell?” 

“I know right! Stan Bart. Well, I mean, we stanned Bart. He left me his old guitar. Anyway, open your phone, dude. I need to airdrop you so many things.” 

“If one of those things is a dick pic then I might actually kill y-” Eddie paused. “Actually, I take that back. I would probably only cause you a mild injury.” 

“That so? What kind of injury are we talking, here?” 

“You’re an idiot. You’re my kinky idiot, but you're still an idiot.” 


	8. Runaway (U and I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm still writing this,,, how,,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I been mentioning NSFW content ahead of time? This fic has been going on for so long that I've lost all sense of organization. Anyway, yeah NSFW ahead.

Eddie Kaspbrak was strict about how his day was scheduled post-divorce. It was probably the one thing to prevent him from zoning out and doing weird shit™ in the evenings like color coding his cupboards or changing the tires on his Escalade out of boredom. The day he saw an ad in the paper for knitting needles and genuinely considered the craft, he sat down and figured his shit out for maximum time consumption. Wake up, shower, breakfast, work, lunch, work, go for a run, shower, dinner, then watch two episodes of something or a movie (oftentimes while playing an online game like chess with Mike or Bill) then go to bed. Sometimes the entire last half was dashed and the run shifted to the morning so he could play console video games dependent upon if a new one he actually enjoyed had recently come out. 

It wasn’t a particularly exciting routine, nor did he really stop the weird shit™ from happening on weekends, but it gave him the sense of routine he needed. The problem was, Richie had never adhered to a schedule in his fucking life. 

Eddie knew this already from random midday phone calls or Instagram updates to Richie’s followers where he’d inevitably do the weird shit™ Eddie specifically avoided like buying clay and poorly sculpting a dick to leave on his neighbor’s doorstep (which he now had so much more context on thankfully) or taking up wood burning for approximately half a day, only long enough to irrevocably harm his kitchen counters. With that in mind, on their first day in the apartment together, Eddie set his alarm a little earlier in the morning. This meant he could plan his day under the console gaming schedule and have his evening clear for the weird shit™ to manifest in his apartment on its own. 

When the incessant beeping began at five AM, Eddie found himself wrapped in the hugging position they slept in that left them both sweaty, hot, and disgustingly content in the mornings. It was gross but Eddie had never felt happier to be so. 

Richie grunted and pressed his face against Eddie’s back, displeased with the loud ‘eep’ filling the air as he probably had some soothing shit like Enya to wake him up most mornings (if that would even be capable of waking him from literal hibernation). He mumbled something between Eddie’s shoulder blades and gave Eddie a tight squeeze around the torso, not conscious enough to remember Eddie’s past squirming from pressure on his ribs. The usual hum of discomfort that plagued the bones that had shattered last year in the attempts to revive him buzzed around Eddie’s sternum. If not for that, he might’ve refused getting up all together. 

“‘M not turnin’ that off ‘till you let me go, Rich,” Eddie mumbled, shifting his legs towards the edge of the bed. Richie gave a huff of annoyance but relinquished his grip enough for Eddie to slide out from beneath the comforter and properly shut it off. Richie clearly had no plans on waking up too so Eddie planted a kiss on the man’s hairline before he could think better of it and wandered off in a groggy haze to get dressed. The cold wood passing tile on his bare feet helped. 

Something Eddie thoroughly enjoyed about running in New York City was going from thousands of distractions to none. Manhattan wasn’t the kind of place where people normally engaged in outdoor physical activity but at five or six in the morning, no one was sentient enough to bat an eye. In fact, one of the local vendors always waved hello on Eddie’s route. It was sweet, especially by New Yorker standards, even moreso when you consider that was a daily interaction with  _ Eddie _ . 

More importantly, all of the people he’d normally keep an eye on out of old habit and lingering anxiety would fade further into the background with each pound of his sneaker on the pavement. The burn in his lungs, a place where he used to focus so hard with the fear that they’d kill him, was enough to narrow his perception down to the road in front of him. For a moment, there were no tall buildings towering over his head or people bustling down the streets. There were no honking cars or angry pedestrians. Eddie used to enjoy the hectic atmosphere in his cagey youth but now that he was free to run, he preferred to drown them out.

Two full laps around his route in fifty three minutes was a new record. He mentally noted that he’d have to measure the length the day before he left, just for posterity’s sake. Or maybe bragging rights. It wasn’t rocket science that he was faster than most each morning, but considering his age and physical hangups, he’d be just as happy with average or even below average pacing. 

Downside to clearing one’s head on morning run: the inevitable return of all 93 things Eddie didn’t even realize were stressing him out. At least the in and out gave him a chance to categorize what was on his mind. It was like each of his issues had to go through TSA where they were given a pat down and booted if they were illogical. For instance, there was the ‘oh shit, unspecified human in my home will be offended that I went for a run’. Immediate boot with ‘Illegitimate and Illogical Claim’ stamped on its forehead. It was followed by ‘fuck, what if my boss doesn’t give me a good recommendation after that HR snafoo with Linda’. That one was allowed because it was more than valid, regardless of likelihood. The Linda situation was a mess. 

He found Richie making pancakes in the kitchen using ingredients Eddie definitely hadn’t owned an hour before. Flour and sugar were the biggest… not red flags. Green flags is the better term. They were green flags saying Richie was more than capable of stocking a random kitchen and making actual food, meaning Eddie didn’t have to worry about having a weird diet when Richie could fend for himself if need be. Eddie wasn’t quite sure why he considered any possibilities otherwise. 

At least one thing was certain. Richie in sweatpants with a tight T-Shirt on was a nice sight, even if his hair was still clearly on a journey to the realm of ‘tumbleweed’. 

“Hey there, Eddie Spaghetti! I zipped down to your weird lobby thing to grab- damn!” Richie did a double take and dropped his wooden spoon haphazardly in the pancake batter to get a better look at his cohort. “What the fuck? Are those yoga pants?” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Eddie growled. He knew this was going to happen. He was more than prepared for it, he just couldn’t get the words out before Richie hit a hard reset on his system. 

“What, like I’m gonna complain?  _ Jesus _ . It’s like you are genuinely trying to kill me.” Eddie stopped and stared at him incredulously.

“They’re pants! If I was planning your murder it would have nothing to do with an article of clothing! What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Please don’t tell me you’re that dense,” Richie replied with a frown. “You- Ugh. Apparently I’ve gotta do everything myself around here.” He sat the mixing bowl down with an impatiently loud ‘thunk’ and walked over to where Eddie was standing, much to the man’s confusion. 

“Do what? Rich, I don’t-” 

There weren’t many times in Eddie’s un-clown affected life where he was caught completely off guard, but this here? This was one of them. Richie’s first move was to tip Eddie’s chin up for a kiss - which, hot, but also, seriously? What actually surprised Eddie were the hands slipping to his ass and squeezing it. Very surprising. Edward Kaspbrak wasn’t someone who generally regarded himself as attractive so his brain had to do a bit of a retcon on the past thirty seconds. Richie nearly pulled away before Eddie caught up and grabbed at his hips, tugging him in closer. 

“Point taken,” Eddie near-whispered when Richie pulled back for a breath, moving them to smile. Neither pulled away, enjoying the ability to impede on each other’s personal space with no repercussions. “Where are you at on your baking adventure?” 

“Hm? Pancakes? Halfway through. All I have left is to burn them for them to be somewhat considered edible.” 

“Uh huh. Any perishables?” Eddie grabbed at Richie’s chest with the same fervor Richie had attacked his ass with. Richie chuckled. 

“Perishables? No, grandma, I put all the  _ perishables _ in the fridge. Why, got immediate plans?” Eddie grinned at him. 

“Maybe.” If Richie were a lightbulb, he’d probably be blinding.

Dragging Richie back towards the bedroom after less than a day since they’d last had sex was a stark contrast to Eddie’s life up until then. He knew he wanted Richie and all the odd yet attractive features he carried. There was an odd comfort in the knowledge they had gained the day before not having faded with time, not to mention the giddy joy of having an actual sex drive that Eddie previously had not realized. Once again, letting his body function rather than micromanaging it seemed to be going well, especially when Richie didn’t seem to mind getting pushed around a little in the meantime. He didn’t seem to mind at all. 

“Willing to shelve making those pancakes for a second?” 

“There’s a joke there but whatever you’re doing to my hips right now is making it very hard to think,” Richie admittedly with candid enthusiasm. Eddie laughed and continued pulling him by the waistband towards the bed, nuzzling up against his neck. Richie stooped down to allow for more access, so Eddie could really get at his shoulders. 

Eddie spun him around and gently shoved him back on the unmade comforter. Richie somehow already looked disheveled as Eddie kissed him hard. 

“My turn.” 

“Turn?” 

“To give you a blowjob.” Richie’s face flushed. 

“Yeah, I can vibe with that. Cool. Yeah. You know that's not like, how it works at all, right?” 

“Uh huh?” Eddie ran his hands through the hair at the base of Richie’s neck, moving in closer to mouth at the juncture between Richie’s ear and jaw. He gently pressed his knee against Richie’s crotch, feeling Richie grab hold of his sides and arch forward at the pressure. 

“Yeah, totally. I’m- uh- Down though. Fucking  _ Jesus _ , Eds.” The way Richie’s voice wobbled a little or how he couldn’t quite hold his hands steady had gone entirely missed last time they’d been in this position and, to Eddie, that was a crying shame. He loved seeing how Richie’s pale skin burned up as he moved, as though it wasn’t just his dick getting the attention. His breathing was already ragged. 

“I’m taking your shirt off,” Eddie said, more as a notification than anything. Richie nodded speechless and let him run his hands under the hem, slowly shifting the fabric up in an agonizing drag so Eddie could properly feel Richie’s heart rate pounding beneath his fingers. Richie pressed further onto Eddie’s knee and moaned. Eddie could not only feel how hard he was, but the sheer size of him too. As unfair as that was and as much as Eddie would love to complain about it, he seriously couldn’t. Not once Richie’s shirt was discarded and Eddie could properly palm at his dick through the fabric of his tented sweatpants. 

The fact that Richie’s shaky demeanor was really doing it for him… Eddie was beginning to really understand why sex hadn’t been a  _ thing _ for him until then. It wasn’t just the way he was nearly clawing at Eddie’s hips, it was the fact that Richie was definitely a man. The depth of his voice and feeling of his chest as Eddie’s fingers coasted over it. The way his overgrown stubble felt on Eddie’s collarbone as they pressed closer together. Eddie finally understood. He finally got what everyone constantly talked about when it came to sex and that understanding in itself was brilliant. 

Richie wasn’t entirely pliant when it came to the clothing. As Eddie pulled at his sweatpants, he responded by tugging at Eddie’s shirt. 

“I thought we’d established the one for one rule, Eds,” he panted. It was true, they had talked about avoiding the clothing roadblock from last time. After pretty hastily chucking his Nike shirt aside, Eddie was about to shuck his pants too when Richie grabbed his hands and in a wheezy voice said, “Exceptions can be made though. Under, like, specific circumstances.” Eddie laughed and kissed him. 

He didn’t bother with the extra step of removing Richie’s boxers seperately, opting to grab both those and the grey sweatpants in one go. Richie pitched up at the pull of the waistband as Eddie rather ruthlessly pulled them away, loudly expressing his approval of the gesture. Eddie moved around the corner of the bed and grabbed a pillow, dropping it to the ground before he followed onto his knees. Richie’s previous restraint evaporated as his jaw fell slightly. 

“What? I said I was gonna do it,” Eddie said with an eyebrow raised. Richie vaguely gained sentience. 

“Yeah, I’m just, like… This was something I fuckin dreamed about and now you’re… wow…” Eddie rolled his eyes with a pleased smirk, unceremoniously running his hands up Richie’s thighs. Richie’s breath hitched and he clenched his fists in the white fabric of the bed. Eddie could feel him tense up and relax under his hands. 

No reason to delay at this point. Rather than let his thoughts start gnawing away at him, Eddie took Richie in hand and started with simply thumbing the head to get a sense to the terrain. Richie moved one of the hands tangled in the bedsheets to Eddie’s shoulder, nails digging in along his clavicle. Eddie grinned up at him and the second their eyes met, he moved forward to properly get his mouth on Richie’s dick. 

“Shit. Holy shit,” Richie mumbled. Yes they were moving fast, but Eddie had a job to get to and subsequently quit. He tongued at the shaft before tentatively testing how far down he could go without activating his gag reflex. He didn’t appreciate not being able to reach the end of the shaft or balls but by winding his fingers around where his mouth couldn’t reach, Richie let out a strange wheezey noise. It was a lot actually, the feeling and overall intimacy of this. Eddie could not only see the appeal but was fairly sure he’d want to stay down here forever if that was an option. 

It took him a few seconds to catch his bearings before he began moving, going entirely by what felt natural and what wouldn’t wind up with his teeth catching on the veins of Richie’s cock. Which pulsed a little. That was...fuck. Eddie vaguely wondered if he was brain dead.

He also really hoped that in future they’d last a little longer as he was just getting a sense of how utterly intoxicating this was when Richie was on the verge of falling apart, muttering nonsense above him that made Eddie’s ears burn. Richie’s hand moved sharply to the nape of Eddie’s neck as he pushed an experimental palm to his balls, groaning obscenely loud, even for two people who were already obviously fucking loud. 

“Eddie. Fair warning, I'm so close to coming right now,” Richie bit out. Eddie would’ve grinned if he wasn’t preoccupied. Instead he took Richie’s hand and buried it in his hair before buckling down to try a bit of a speedrun. Richie could probably tell by his demeanor that Eddie was about to fucking wreck him as he braced himself, Eddie’s gripping Richie’s hip to prevent him from bucking up to far during this ordeal. 

God, he was hard. Eddie pointedly decided that he was going to make blowing Richie like this a pastime. 

In reality, the pace hadn’t changed much after the shift, but the way Richie tugged Eddie’s hair set off a chain reaction. First, Eddie moaned and pressed a hand to his own erection in the hopes of chilling the fuck out long enough to really go down on Richie. This led to Richie coming and Eddie’s complete shock as in his own opinion he hadn’t done anything all that special to warrant an immediate reaction like  _ that _ . The come was  _ vile _ so Eddie pulled off like a goddamn idiot as though he hadn’t specifically planned ahead to not do that, and long story short, his face felt very wet and sticky and Richie was fucking dead. 

Richie also made it a point to bitch at Eddie for jacking off instead of letting him help out but Eddie stood by his decision to ride the high of one of the best experiences of his life on his own terms. 

*******

Showing up fifteen minutes late off of a four day vacation was not only extremely weird behavior, but also a very bad decision considering Eddie’s plans for the next few weeks. Luckily, everyone trusted that he'd show up on time so no one actually docked him for it. Or noticed. Neat. And by the grace of god, he’d caught the mark riding too high on his neck in time to pull his collar up. 

Eddie’s days were so boringly simple at the office; he inwardly cringed at having to hit resume on them after the brief life changing pause he’d enjoyed. It was time for the stats, occasionally meeting with a potential client to explain said stats, then calculate, then explain, then maybe a meeting sprinkled in there to make his boss feel better about herself. Eddie was in one of the highest risk analyst positions, yet he still fell victim to the weekly ego boost Mrs. Williams forced on the office. He was watching a mini dictator, constantly taking issue with her faithful minions and enforcing nonsensical rules to assert her control over the workspace. 

Eddie was really trying not to see Beverly as the only good woman on the face of the Earth but so far, his examples were still fairly slim. At least it wasn’t Laura running the branch. Then he might actually lose faith in the opposing gender. 

“Morning, Mr. Kaspbrack.” Okay maybe the secretary was a good example, Eddie mused as he walked in that morning. She was a blunt, reserved young woman who never spoke beyond that of business. Eddie would be friends with her if either of them were the type to actively make friends. Given that his only amiable response to anyone in this office went to the secretary was either a sign that he was an asshole or the other employees were assholes and honestly, neither would surprise Eddie one bit. 

“Morning, Ms. Walker,” Eddie replied with more of a smile than he usually attempted. Navigating the grey and white cubicle setting of the main area was a nice shot to Eddie’s ego each day. After years of dredging up numbers in that oppressive setting, he’d earned a nice office to the side belonging strictly to him. Today, he merely glanced at it as he made his way to Mrs. Williams’ office. She had a habit of waiting at least five seconds after someone knocked because she could and no one could stop her. 

“Come in.” Eddie walked in with the air of someone who was a regular at the pub. Sure, he disliked his boss, but he was damn great at working with her. The ‘teacher’s pet’ if you will. Barring the HR incident. His anxiety would not just  _ let it go already _ . “Kaspbrak. Nice to see you around again. It was so odd not seeing that frown of yours here to scare off the newbies last week that I nearly called you back.” Eddie gave a complimentary smile, ignoring that he found the joke boring after the third time she’d said something along those lines this month. And, well, his off putting disposition wasn’t exactly news anyway. 

“I appreciate that you didn’t ma’am.” He knew better than to start with business immediately, allowing her time to fill the air with her own boring nonsense while he sat with his legs crossed, eyebrows hung in boredom. Not that she'd notice them.

“You know, I nearly had to pull everyone together yesterday and reevaluate our business plan? Between your absence and the incompetence from our interns here, we nearly had a crisis.” 

“I’m sure you pulled us through,” Eddie replied. 

“Yes, it took an email or two. I’m considering firing McTiernan for his subpar work on the last IT eval. Christ, it was a mess.” She never fired anyone she brought up in times like these but McTiernan was an asshole and the office would be better off without his awful knock knock jokes and shitty, typo-laden spreadsheets. 

“That does seem like the logical decision.” 

“His work over the next few days will decide. What brings you to my office? Another client dispute?” She sat back in her seat and smiled at him like a shark having a nice chat with another shark.

“I’d like to file a two week notice for leaving the company.” Mrs. Williams visibly paled. So maybe she hadn’t been exaggerating his impact around here. 

“But- You’re next in line for my position. You’ve been here for over ten years and you have a great shot at making branch leader before the end of your career. How is this beneficial?” Eddie wanted to explain that a man had come into his life and New York hadn’t been his place for months. 

“I’ve seen a few opportunities open in LA and I think I’d prefer the weather. I’d gladly run a training course for Diaz to take my position but the farthest I’m willing to extend my notice is two weeks.” 

*******

On Wednesday, Richie had come out. Eddie came out the next morning and confessed that he was in love with the lanky bastard the following night. They held one another near constantly. They very nearly broke the golden rule of not fucking at their friend’s house approximately three times, then jumped each other the second they had the chance. Twice. They’d gone on an actual date, though Eddie supposed that was merely getting dinner and would happen quite regularly. 

In four days, Richie and Eddie had moved faster than they had for three decades. How the fuck was this even real? 

He almost chucked a file at the door and screamed when a coworker knocked. High strung or clown trauma? The world may never know. Eddie slapped the file down and took a deep breath, composing himself before saying a surprisingly amiable, “Come in.” Granted, it was fucking  _ Laura _ from fucking  _ accounting _ so his mood soured in half a second flat. 

“Kaspbrak.” 

“Laura Dempsey. How may I help you?” The short, haughty woman leaned against the doorway with an air of infuriating confidence. 

“Mrs. Williams just gave me your resignation to process and I realized… apparently you’ve never used any company resources for travel expenses.” Eddie nodded nonchalantly even though that was entirely new information. It sure as shit hadn’t been the policy back when Eddie had joined on. “You know that money is still set aside in that account right? It’s supposed to go somewhere.” 

“I have no plans for it. Put it towards office supplies for all I care. Lena’s desk got cracked last week, she could use a new one.” 

“I can’t reallocate funds in that manner.” Reallocating funds was literally her job,  _ liar _ . Eddie knew because she’d done that exact thing for Jerry last month. “I’m only here to tell you that you have a rather large bonus check and that’s why.” Eddie read the subtext. She was only there to prove the check wasn’t for any actual work he’d done. Some days, he really wished he couldn’t see right through her. Instead, he had to swallow his ego for two seconds and thank her for a back handed side gesture because that’s just how it worked around the office. 

“Thank you for the notification. I will keep that in mind when I hand my bonus over to Lena for a new desk.” Laura pursed her lips and silently huffed as she left the doorway. Eddie would be lying if he said he didn’t slightly enjoy getting under her skin sometimes. Who knew the grumpy risk analyst and the stuck up accountant wouldn’t get along?

With Laura elsewhere, Eddie went back to gathering his papers together. He still had clients to transfer and a meeting at three. 

*******

Work was exhausting. It always was. Maybe if he’d picked an exciting career like Bill’s or Richie’s or even Mike’s, he’d be less bone deep tired by the end of the day. Instead, he took Stan’s boring wheelhouse but with a much more mind numbing environment to work in and far less enjoyment of fancy number stuff. Riding home on the subway, he contemplated why that was. Pre-Derry, Eddie needed to be tired at the end of the day. He needed an excuse to go home and restart the whole routine as quickly as possible just to be  _ elsewhere _ even if elsewhere was just as boring. 

He didn’t want that exhaustion when he knew he had a Skype call with the Losers at 7 or Richie waiting at home with some weird shit™ undoubtedly running its course. Without his job in the way, Eddie was normally the energizer bunny of the group, zipping between tasks like a hopped up squirrel with no limits beyond that of the physical. After a nine to five shift in hell, he didn’t feel like zipping much at all. 

Richie could zip enough for the both of them by the time Eddie made it through the apartment door. 

“Eds! Hi! Your back!” Eddie paused in the hall and stared blankly at Richie’s… creation. He’d managed to stack every book Eddie owned in a color coded fashion to form a cartoon robot, standing on two legs on the coffee table. With books. Books for fuck’s sake. Not to mention Richie was standing in a strange posture to mirror it, wearing a rainbow and white hawaiian shirt with baggy cargo shorts that were almost comically ill fitting. The man was a mess. 

Eddie laughed. Sure, he could’ve tactfully needled Richie into their usual banter but he didn’t feel like it. Instead he just laughed and dropped his jacket, wandering over to the living area where he could hug Richie properly. 

“You are such an idiot, oh my god.” Richie was grinning ear to ear, surprised but pleased by the response. Eddie buried his face in Richie’s chest. It was warm and soft as ever. Richie always gave pretty tight hugs too.

“Yeah? I got bored.” 

“Wow, really? I had no idea. Jesus Christ.” Eddie turned to marvel at Richie’s weirdly skilled handiwork. “Called Ben for pointers on physics?” 

“Nah, it was a trial and error activity. I was gonna have a go at you for the over abundance of self help books but you’re being oddly nice right now and I don’t want to break it.” Eddie rolled his eyes. 

“At least I’ve expanded to a genre beyond X-Men comics.”

“You know those guys were an allegory, right? It’s painfully ironic that your fav was Wolverine.” 

“First of all, second favorite. My first favorite was Rogue and you know it.” Richie chuckled. Yeah, he was aware. “And that’s fucking hilarious coming from the guy who’s favorite was Hank.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Big hairy smart ass. The only thing I have in common with Wolverine is anger issues.” Richie gasped. 

“So he’s self aware. No wonder he’s self helping!” Eddie chuckled and playfully shoved Richie away, heading for the bedroom. “Noooo, I knew I’d break it!” Once Richie’s brain caught up with him that Eddie was going to change, he paused in the doorway. 

“C’mon, I need someone to pelt my shirt at when I finally get this damn thing off.” Eddie was already halfway done unbuttoning but didn’t feel like losing the company for the few minutes it would take to find something more comfy. Luckily, he could tell someone was on his tail as he dipped into the closet.

“Enticing offer, Eds. I prefer the strip tease beforehand personally but physical annihilation is still an offer I wouldn’t turn down.” Richie ran and launched onto the bed face first. The puffy white sheets of the bed he’d apparently made while Eddie was out completely engulfed him. Eddie smiled.

“Thanks. Why the fuck do you insist on murdering the bed springs again?”

“Fluffy,” Richie replied into the bed so Eddie could barely catch the consonants. 

“Mm, fair. Hey, hotshot, you said you were making a to do list, right?” 

“H’ll ya, I ‘m!” Eddie crossed his arms and stared at him. The silence got Richie to sit up finally, head on his hands and repeat, “Hell yeah, I am!” He caught sight of Eddie, shirtless across the room and whistled. 

“Where to then? I want to get the fuck out of here and see colors beyond grey scale.” 

“Yeah, this place could use a little spicing up. How about… Oo, I’ve got one. Casual wear only. Like, hoodie and jeans.” Part of Eddie didn’t like the surprise element but another part of him wouldn’t have it any other way.

“What I usually wear?” 

“Exactly. I mean, shirtless and slacks, no one’s gonna complain but…” Eddie schwacked him with his button up as he’d promised earlier. It’s not like there hadn’t been an express warning. 

“Ah! Homophobia! I’m being hate crimed!” 

“We had hate crimes in our home town you fucking idiot! This is obviously spousal abuse!” Richie burst out laughing and rolled onto his back to splay out, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, that’s so much better. And so much less prevalent in Derry! Totally. I can’t wait to get cancelled the second I even mention your name on television. They’ll look back in your Twitter and find gems like  _ that _ , then rest in peace Trashmouth.” Eddie grinned and feigned over exaggerated fear, bracing himself against the doorway like a 1920s movie actress. 

“Oh no! Not Twitter! Whatever shall I do?” he exclaimed in a shitty Voice Richie could probably nail if he felt like it. Richie tried stifling his laughter under his hands so Eddie pounced onto the bed and grabbed his wrists, pulling them back to continue the bit. “Richie, Richie, oh god! We’re doomed! We’re done for! I’ve triggered your fans!” Richie was honest to god cackling. Eddie paused to take in the absolute art in front of him before bouncing back off the bed with a dopey smile on his face. 

“You- You are such a bad person! Eds, for fuck’s sake!” 

“If this is new information to you, I’m concerned,” Eddie replied. He grabbed a faded navy shirt and some black jeans that were maybe slightly tighter than they needed to be (who’s to judge, right?).

“God no, that’s half of why I fell in love with you!” His chest did something weird but Eddie kept his cool. 

“That so? If you say the other half was my ass, I will Liam Neeson you when you run away from my wrath.” 

“ _ I will find you, and I will kill you _ .” So spot on, it was almost scary. “No, no, no, I’ve got a whole list of sappy reasons! It’s just that half of them are what make you inherently an asshole.” Eddie chuckled and fixed his belt, the last step of his wardrobe change. He heard rustling behind him from the bed before there were suddenly arms around his waist, notably not his ribs, hoisting him into the air. Eddie went rigid and yelped. 

“What the fuck?!” 

“Reason number one, fun-sized!” 

“Pot meet kettle, asshole number two!” Richie dropped him to his feet and immediately darted back, arms and leg up in defense mode for the oncoming counter. Eddie went for a much worse rebuttal than the basic flail of an appendage, instead opting to really go for the kill by breaking Richie’s defensive pose long enough to kiss him. It was supposed to be short and slightly rough but when Richie moved back with him as he pulled away and instantly relaxed, Eddie stuck around for a few seconds then he’d originally intended. For good measure obviously. 

“I haven’t heard any complaints from the peanut gallery,” Richie murmured when Eddie drew just out of reach. Eddie’s previously slack expression screwed up to indignation in an instant. 

“Are you kidding? I complain about you constantly. To your face. Loudly.” Richie smirked. 

“But do you really?” he replied softly. Eddie moved a little closer again.

“...Nah.” Eddie pushed past him, snatching some socks as he passed through the doorway. “What do you call it again? Observational comedy?” Richie leaned against the counter as Eddie pulled his shoes on for only a moment before realizing that he too needed shoes. 

“Now you’re- Fuck, hang on.” Eddie laughed. 

“Aw, did the lightbulb come on?” 

“You know damn well I’d walk out of here barefoot!” Richie declared. 

“You concern me as a human being!” Eddie called back. 

Soon enough, they were out the door, weaving through crowds and continuing their banter right down into the subway. Eddie couldn’t quantify how happy he was, only that his face might hurt from smiling before they even reached their destination. Richie was vibrant and loving and excited and Eddie had missed that so fucking much over the past year. Hell, it could be argued that he had missed it for decades. 

Richie dragging him through the subway with their fingers entwined, while unbelievably endearing, did raise some concerns for Eddie once they’d gotten situated in the back row of a train car. Eddie snorted as Richie pulled the age-old yawn-arm-over-the-shoulder trick, then tugged Eddie closer to his side, as if they weren’t already pressed together enough. 

“Rich, are you sure you're not worried about, like, press or whatever?” Eddie broached carefully. Richie frowned and shrugged. 

“I should be.” 

“But you’re not.” 

“I- Yeah, I’m really not,” he replied with near surprise in his voice. Eddie nodded and dropped his head on Richie’s shoulder, glancing out at the other passengers. No one was looking anyway, save for a toddler who was smiling and waving at them. Eddie gave a small two finger salute that made the young thing giggle like she’d heard the funniest joke in the world. “I haven’t actually been able to put something together yet. For the last tour. Nothing’s clicking that’s impersonal enough not to get stung for it by Burkowitz.” Eddie was beginning to loathe that name and he hadn’t even met the guy.

“Within the past week you’ve created a human pyramid with your childhood friends, developed a weird fascination with various forms of pandas, and created a robot out of my books that have admittedly hilarious titles because I have issues.” Richie chuckled and dropped his face to Eddie’s hair. 

“Yeah but… I’m saving the Losers Club and you and all our antics for my own tour. That’s the problem.” 

“We had nothing to do with the panda thing. And I know you’ve fixated on weirder.” Richie sighed and didn’t reply. It was odd considering their entire schtick was the ability to talk endlessly in circles for hours but he seemed more content than anything. Eddie didn’t mind. He fiddled with the hem of Richie’s button up and enjoyed the familiar warm weight across his shoulder. 

Maybe Eddie wasn’t being so dramatic about Richie being the light in the darkness after all. New York City was still cold, grey, and occasionally pouring icy rain, yet Eddie wasn’t drowning in it. He’d spent a year barely treading the water but now, he was floating, coasting over the dark place he’d been trapped in for years. When the subway car jolted and the lights flickered, Eddie hoped with his whole heart that he couldn’t be pulled under again. He liked the fresh air. He liked being able to  _ breathe _ again. 

Richie knocked their knees together when they’d reached the right stop. It was an odd one that Eddie had never taken before but then again, his work to home route was the only one he’d used for twelve years give or take a few. 

Richie stood as the train came to a stop, but the second jolt it gave threw him off balance. Eddie caught his hips and righted him, only standing once the vehicle was truly at a stand still. The couple was still oddly silent and generally comfortable with that. Eddie assumed that was the comfort that came with no longer needing to hide. They were in love. They both knew it. No need to compensate for exchanging a fond glance or the way Eddie grabbed one of Richie’s belt loops and held on. Richie’s rainbow button up and having been practically attached to one another for the past five minutes already screamed ‘gay couple’. No one would look at them and think Trashmouth Tozier either though.

The air was still bitter outside, if not worse now that the sun was setting. It was to be expected but Eddie had slightly forgotten about it in the stuffy warmth of the subway station. Richie zipped up his sweater as Eddie looked up at the bright orange light reflecting between the many nondescript shiny buildings above them. It sparkled and splintered and did absolutely nothing against the growing windchill. Once Richie was adjusted, he tugged Eddie’s sleeve and nodded to their left. Eddie smiled and followed. They bumped into each other on purpose as they walked. 

“Any guesses on where we’re heading?” Richie asked with a devious grin. 

“I’d like to buy a vowel please, Ms. Vanna.” Richie gave a surprised chuckle. 

“Two As. Bit of a nostalgia trip.” Eddie lit up but didn’t give a guess, knowing exactly where they were heading. 

“Cool. So you’re still a massive nerd.”

“What can I say? Branding is everything.” Eddie subtly bumped into him again. No reason, just felt like it. 

A block down, a sign came into view reading, ‘Azzy’s Arcade’ in bright gold lettering on a black background. If Eddie had thought of this, he would’ve vetoed the idea for being too meta and childish. Coming from Richie though, Eddie was far less judgmental. The man was a pinball wizard. 

“Three A’s dumbass. There’s a story behind this, isn’t there?” 

“1999, I was invited to a party up in Manhattan where we just were- The fuck?” There was a sign in bold letters saying ‘CONDEMNED’ over a citation for multiple ignored health violations posted on the door. 

“Health violations,” Eddie read as he started to laugh. Richie just stared at it in awe. 

“I- Okay, I am not old enough for buildings to fucking close in my absence. No. This is so not okay.” 

“16 years and you didn’t fucking check the website.”

“Like you would ha- Actually, no. No, you would’ve.” Eddie shook his head with an amused grin, thunking his forehead against Richie’s shoulder. “Wait it says they’ve been violating since the 90s!”

Richie dropped his voice to perfectly imitate the many infamous commercials on the matter and it sent Eddie into a fit. 

“ _If you or a loved one has been exposed to asbestos, you may be owed financial compensation. Call the number on your screen today._ ” It was  spot on . Richie only gave him a sad grin as Eddie caught his breath. 

“Fucking  _ God _ . You’re such a mess. I’m sorry your arcade quit out on you in,” Eddie squinted at the sign. “2014.” Richie snorted. 

“Yeah, yeah, random asbestos attacks, we’ve all had ‘em. I didn’t have a plan B made yet,” Richie said almost quietly. Eddie shrugged. 

“Alright, so… pick a place.” Richie raised an eyebrow. “How hard can it be? Just point and... yeah.”

“Wait, really?” 

“Why not? Don’t take me to a fucking club or whatever but, I don't know! I trust your judgement. You have way more experience winging it than I do.” Richie paused with a strange mix of pride and awe that Eddie didn’t necessarily dislike. 

“I- You know sometimes I forget you looked your fears in the eye and quite literally strangled them.” Richie caught Eddie’s hand and pulled them in the direction from whenst they came before Eddie could comment. “Let’s see what else this street has to offer.” 

They wound up in what was apparently a really popular chain restaurant ‘Clyde’s’, but it felt far from any chain restaurant Eddie had been too. Sure, he hadn’t been to many, but the ones he had wandered into on a bad night were never this nice. The warm lighting danced between mirrors lining an accent wall that reflected the sprawling bar on the other side. Richie had likely picked such a nice place for the reliability factor but also… maybe it was a nice date. Eddie was open to either reasoning. It felt juvenile to consider but regardless of intentions, that was still going to be the inevitable outcome once they were seated by the waitor with the weirdly chiseled jawline. It almost rivaled that of Ben or Richie’s. Almost. 

The millisecond they were secured in the booth, they immediately tried to kick one another from beneath the table. Eddie laughed as Richie muttered, “Great minds think alike,” scanning his menu. 

Eddie felt giddy. Normally he would’ve shunned the strange excitement he had always associated with having grown out of. In the past he would’ve judged himself for it ruthlessly. With Richie’s ankles bracketing his own, he decided to cut himself some slack. It had been a stressful day. If his brain could shut up in this wonderful moment, Eddie certainly wasn’t going to wake it back up to bitch at him some more. 

The menu was a complicated mess he’d usually fret over. Eddie picked a random dish that he could somewhat imagine and called it good, setting the fancy paper aside and hoping his literal orthorexia could avoid showing up to the party. Richie glanced up from over his own and grinned but said nothing about it, his hair frizzy from the windy day. Eddie wanted to run his hands through it. And maybe up Richie’s shirt. 

Maybe a carefree Eddie was also a horny Eddie. 

“Should I quiz you on it when you’re done?” Eddie asked cheekily, flicking the other man’s menu. It was a reference to the Jade of Orient when Eddie had hid behind his menu for as long as he could physically manage and Richie cracked that beauty at him. Across from him in the booth, Richie couldn’t suppress a smile. 

“Hypocrite.” 

“Mhm. Glad you’ve realized this. I’m also great-” he flicked Richie’s menu again. “-at being-” And again. “-annoying.” Richie dropped it and tried to level Eddie with a glare and failed miserably. Instead Eddie wiggled his eyebrows and finally broke him. 

“Ugh, you insatiable bastard,” he said under deep giggles. Eddie preened. 

“Another nickname of mine. I’m collecting them.”

“What, so they’ll have to call out all your titles in court?” Richie cleared his throat and used a nearly adequate Judge Judy voice. _“Uh, we’d like to call to the stand_ insatiable rat bastard with anxiety , _Eddie Kaspbrak. Will you please take the stand, sir_?” 

“I’m pleading the fifth.” 

“ _You’re fingerprints were on the murder weapon_ ,” Richie replied, leaning forward. Eddie inched forward too. 

“They were from my evil twin, Medi. He’s me but a little more pale.” 

“ _Ah, but he had an alibi. He was taking out his anger on the pillow section at Walmart at the hour of the crime._ ” 

“I have an alibi too. I was busy helping my neighbor after she, true story, bleached her asshole incorrectly.” 

“I- Wha- Could she corroborate your story?” 

“She was drunk at the time but surely she could probably remember a vaguely me shaped person.” 

“ _And how many other short angry white men are there in your building?_ ” 

“One. I have a weird monopoly on white guys on my floor.” 

“ _But sir, your drunken golden butthole neighbor_ was _the victim of the crime_.” 

“No she wasn’t.” 

“ _Yes, she was. Photos of the dead body are right here._ ” Richie gestured to the menus. 

“They’re too blurry to identify.” 

“ _Her father saw the body in person._ ” 

“Well, her father’s a bitch.” Richie let out a surprised puff of air. Eddie paused and his shoulders dropped. “Wait. Bro, I pleaded the fifth already. I do not have to speak.” 

“Did you just ‘bro’ Judge Judy?” Richie asked with shock.

“Pfft, no. I ‘bro’ed you which is arguably worse in every respect.” Richie gave a sharp cackle and sat back, bumping Eddie’s calf with his heel. 

“Okay but I absolutely  _ need _ to hear the bleached asshole story,” Richie replied. It was right then that the waitor arrived. Eddie glanced at the ceiling. God, they were a pair. 

“Hello, uh- Welcome to Clyde’s. Are you ready for drinks or…?” They were different from the jawline guy and had a nose that was vaguely reminiscent of a beak. Eddie squinted across at Richie daringly. 

“I’ll take an old-fashioned,” Richie replied confidently. “I am not ordering for my dear Eds here because I have self preservation skills.” 

“Damn, I thought I had him,” Eddie grumbled. As he looked down at his menu, he recognized exactly two things and neither sounded good. “Um…” Richie nudged him under the table and winked, nodding upwards while looking at Eddie’s menu. Sure enough, at the top was a margarita. Eddie snorted. 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because! I’ve never ordered one and- I mean, why would I- The- Alright fine. Might as well try it. Margarita on the rocks, please. Blame him.” 

“I didn’t say anything!” Richie protested gleefully.

“Then what was the ‘why not?’, huh?” Eddie handed his menu up to the waitor with an apologetic grin. “Thanks.” The waitor was amused and gave a nonchalant wave before bustling off towards the bar. It wasn’t necessarily packed but there was an underlying buzz of motion as newcomers were seated around them. 

“Not a problem, sir. I’ll be back with your drinks in a moment.” As they left, Eddie gently kicked Richie’s shin. 

“Jackass.” 

“What? No need to slam hard liquor when I’m around. Unlike you, I have way more alcohol tolerance.” 

“I can imagine, considering you’re basically slenderman if he got sat on.” Richie bit his bottom lip in the ‘trying not to disturb the peace way’, which was distinctly different from the ‘trying and failing to be sexy’ way. “What? What is it?”

“Nothing. Got an idea but I have to sit on it for a while or you’ll stab me.” 

“Well that’s reassuring,” Eddie muttered with a content puff and dropped his chin on his palm to look out over the growing crowd. It wasn’t loud though as the restaurant employed proper sound buffering techniques like the weird velvet cushiony stuff between the mirrors or patterned three dimensional wood design on the other walls. The bartender was shaking up something vaguely mint green in the far left of his vision. 

“My morning was spent building a pirate ship, then a robot out of your weird ass collection of books so I’m eager to hear how NYC's treated you today, my dear Eds. You seem fuckin’ exhausted.” Eddie glanced back at him dully, prompting Richie to laugh and whistle. “That bad, huh?” 

“Everybody wants to be friends in that fucking office. Or smite me. No grey area where I can work  _ around _ them.” 

“Aw, but who wouldn’t want to befriend the anal retentive gremlin of risk analysis?” Eddie grinned and raised him the bird. 

“Laura, that’s who. God. You know what? Tell me if I’m crazy for thinking she was being spiteful but today…”

*******

“...And if it doesn’t fit? There you fucking have it!” Richie cried. Eddie leaned forward laughing, pushing his empty plate back so he could properly drop his head to the table.

“Oh my god!” 

“She wasn’t listening! That’s not my fault!”

“You were the one who picked the big shit! How was that- Richie!” Richie only responded with a devilish grin, downing the last of his drink. Eddie nearly stabbed him in order to pay so it was his card currently being wrung up for their meal. “Goddamn it, you ass hat,” he grumbled with too big a grin to pull it off. 

Eddie’s face was a little sore from smiling so much but he was with a comedian so it was probably to be expected. He never understood those bigshots with spouses that didn’t find them funny. Even the stupidest shit Richie came up with left Eddie in stitches. When the waiter dropped the final receipt, Eddie set about tucking his card away. Richie looked antsy. 

“You look like something’s about to pounce on you.” Richie’s eyebrows raised. 

“Really? Yeah, I guess that checks out,” he replied with a slow nod. Eddie frowned at him. “I was gonna do something and it in my head… I don’t know. There’s a lot of people here.” Eddie, though curious, wasn’t going to push it. 

“I don’t think anyone cares what we’re up to but I see what you’re saying.” After a thoughtful second, Richie leaned forward with his earlier glint of playful yet smug. 

“So you’re saying go for it.” Eddie squinted at him. Something about his tone change was making Eddie’s heart rate go all wonky. 

“...Sure.” Richie grinned as the waiter appeared with their check. They and Eddie exchanged niceties while Richie seemed far more interested in Eddie’s half of the conversation than the waitor’s. The second they left, Eddie felt Richie’s shoe press into his thigh and visibly tensed, face burning. “Fuck you!”

“That’s what I’m aiming for,” Richie replied, sliding it higher to his inner groin area. Eddie fumbled his wallet out and shoved his card in. He had a feeling that the ride home would be a long one. 

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters are going to be song names that fit the tone of the chapter!


End file.
